


Once...

by HadenXCharm



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball, The Thief and the Cobbler (1993)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ancient Babylonia, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - The Thief and the Cobbler, Comedy, Crushes, F/M, Fantasy, Happy Ending, Language Barrier, Love at First Sight, M/M, Non-Speaking Character(s), Parody, Romance, Surprise Side Pairing, Sweet, cobbler kagami, prince aomine, thief kuroko
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-04 17:43:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 100,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21201575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HadenXCharm/pseuds/HadenXCharm
Summary: Kagami, a reclusive, mute shoemaker, is dragged off to the royal palace, where Prince Daiki falls for the bashful boy and saves him from execution. In the meantime, a thief, more interested in gold than love, takes off with the kingdom's prize jewels, unfortunately setting an ancient prophecy of doom in motion and leaving the city vulnerable to an evil warrior. Together, Kagami and the Prince must attempt to retrieve the jewels in order to stop the approaching army and the double-crossing Vizier.But perhaps it may all be up to the local thief to set things right by accident...Once upon a time, there was a golden city.





	1. Once Upon a Time...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kagami gets a surprise visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to hybristophilica, who is helping me by beta reading this fic.

_“It is written among the limitless constellations of the celestial heavens,_  
_ and in the depths of the emerald seas, _  
_ and upon every grain of sand in the vast deserts, _  
  
_ that the world which we see is an outward and visible dream _ _  
of an inward and invisible reality.”_

  
. . .

_**Once**_ upon a time, there was a golden city. 

In the center of the Golden City atop the tallest minaret, were three gold balls. The ancients had prophesied that if the three golden balls were ever taken away, harmony would yield to discord, and the city would fall to destruction and death.

But the mystics had also foretold that the city might be saved by the simplest soul, with the smallest and simplest of things.

In the city, there dwelt a lowly shoemaker. 

Also in the city, existed a_ thief... _

. . .

In a faraway land, beyond violet-peaked mountains of stone, a beautiful river oasis flows through the desolate sands of the Arabian desert. In the center of the crystal blue water lay a towering island cityscape, the river flowing around it to each side and encapsulating it— an island city within an island of water within a _sea_ of desert sand.

Just past dawn, sunlight spreads across the empty bazaar of a dazzling city. Cleared of its tents and carts and stands, the tiles of the courtyard zigzag off in a diamond-shaped pattern of golds, browns, creams, and oranges. The buildings are of smooth stucco with brown ceramic-tiled rooftops, stacked up and jutting out in a maze without pattern or order. Towers of polished white stone with golden caps stand tall, opulent and sparkling richly in the sun. Windows and walls are decked with textiles and spice bags. Laundry lines stretch from house to house through alleyways, clothes fluttering high up into the sky. Cypress, Greek juniper, and pine shrubs grow from turreted balconies, framing keyhole windows shaped like the Mughal domes of the temples. Staircases, wooden balconies, awnings, doors and windows, they become a beautiful patchwork quilt the farther into the distance you look. 

The tight urban spaces are crammed with buildings and residences, stacked up and slotted close enough to suffocate, but the bazaar, the open flat area down in the courtyard, is perfect for congregating— and better still before a soul is awake.

Well. One soul is. 

Over the sunlit tiles, through the cheery brown buildings and their tangle of colorful striped awnings, the city dreams. Peddlers sleep outside with coin cups, slumped into corners with their pack of wares. Dogs lay with their heads on their paws. Through the courtyard, past a merrily splashing fountain, coated in glittering jeweled tiles and stone statuary, the dawn reaches its warm fingers through the front window of a dingy store.

It's a cobbler's shop. The sun sparkles down and falls onto the back of a sleeping boy, lying curled up on a rug. He’s fallen asleep among his tools, which are strewn out next to him in a pile. 

The shop is absolutely crammed to the brim with shoes. The downstairs is packed with wares, hanging in pairs from the ceiling, practically blocking the doorway, forcing one to duck and weave to get inside. Upstairs is the workshop. Leather lays in rolls on the floor, cut to pieces in the shapes of shoes and boots and slippers and sandals. Tables are overflowing with pins and measuring cords, spools of thread with needles sticking out. Hammers and chisels and knives and whittles and scissors and wooden models of feet of different sizes are stacked and piled and scattered everywhere. In the center of it all lay the young man.

Although his eyes are closed, he is working in his sleep, hands fumbling slowly through the motions, the muscle-memory having become automatic after endless labor.

A young man of twenty, perhaps younger, perhaps older, and pale as a marble column. His hands are large and unwieldy for the delicate work of gripping a tiny needle and thread, of holding a shoe tack steady. His clothes are grey from use and ragged enough to fall to pieces, as evidenced by the medley of patches covering the fabric. His own rough shoes are tatters, his toes sticking out and bound with a rag. Bristly hair of dark brown nestles beneath a cloth cap, his eyes sweetly closed, two crescent moons of dark lashes.

He lays in a bare patch on a woven rug, surrounded by tacks. Let’s not forget the _tacks. _

They’re absolutely everywhere. Sharp iron shoe tacks are strewn on the ground, piled up in boxes on the shelves, scattered any area where he must have been working. They’re even locked into his knuckles, held fast between his fingers, they’re bitten into his lips, held in his teeth for later use.

By contrast to his hardworking and threadbare appearance, his mindless hands stitch an intricate design on a delicate crimson shoe, a thread of brilliant gold pinpricking its way across the surface. He’s not just any poor shoemaker. It’s clear he’s an artist.

Kagami Taiga is an artist with a tender and gentle heart, whose hands bring forth amazingly detailed designs, a fantastic imagination, a wild and fiery spirit caged within a squallored shop. A boy who can live the most humble and impoverished life, and yet dream the most beautiful dreams— 

  
And the single waking soul in the vast city, that soul has been watching.

  
He’s been watching the little shop for a few days now, _ some would call it casing the joint, but whatever— _He’s been watching the shop and the big recluse that lives there, and he’s ready to pay him a visit.

Across the empty bazaar, flies buzz just above a wall of stone bricks, and then beneath them, a head pops up. A little grubby face swiftly looks around and then zips back down. 

The flies follow him in a swarm as he huddles along to a saddle shop, standing empty as the owner sleeps upstairs, blissfully unaware. A tiny hand whips out and yanks a woven saddle down from the stall, swiftly pulling it into a coat— a shapeless, heavy, filthy, _ filthy _ coat. 

It hangs on his skinny body like an amorphous green-gray-brown blob, concealing him from stinky head to grubby toes and giving him the appearance of being larger than he really is. His sleeves droop over his hands unless he pushes them up, optimal for swiping. It drags along the ground behind him as he shuffles and scuttles over the stone street, the edge ragged and dusty.

Tiny hands and feet with bony fingers and toes occasionally peek out of his disgusting coat, the only visible body parts other than his head. A white hat sits on shaggy hair of faded blue, capping a plain face. All in all, he’s completely unremarkable. The only notable characteristic on his unmemorable face is that it’s completely neutral. An uncreased brow, a flat mouth, and two round and very dull eyes that stare forward in a calm but rather unsettling way, utterly expressionless.

The type of person who always gets passed over in a crowd, never draws attention, never gets noticed.

Kuroko was made for the life of a crook.

Feeling pleased with himself, he breaks cover and bolts for the fountain, but quick as he is, he can’t escape the flies, which trail him like a cloud. 

No one’s about on this merry morn, and the bazaar is left defenseless, ripe for him to pick over as he pleases. Well, no. Actually, he can see someone else up and about, hears them singing in the early morning as they stroll on their way.

Kuroko sneaks up behind a young girl, skinny with light brown hair and slowly going about her business. Silently, he reaches out a hand to try and lift her purchase, a bundle of fruit, and suddenly— 

He’s been grabbed around the wrist. 

With unexpected strength, she flips him over her shoulder and throws him to the ground with a _ whomp— _ knocking the breath out of him. He’s so surprised he doesn’t struggle as she shakes him by the neck, throwing him this way and that, thrashing him good. 

The loot he’s already collected flies from his pockets, scattering to the ground with a terrific clang and clatter, brass pots and glass jars and jewelry and useless articles snatched up by the hands of an opportunist zipping out of his baggy coat like candy from a pinata.

At last she hurls him to the ground, leaving him there like a chump, and goes on her way. Kuroko picks himself up from the pile and skitters away sheepishly, scurrying into an alley and disappearing.

Silent, tiny, and unobtrusive. A face no one remembers, incredibly plain, with a weak presence. He usually goes entirely unnoticed. He’s built to be the perfect thief.

His only problem is he’s criminally incompetent. And he never learns shit.

Kuroko dusts himself off, and because, hey, nobody saw anyway, gets back to business and creeps along the alleyway for his next victim— he knows exactly who he’s going to visit now. Someone more defenseless, y’know, no more tiny girls who’ll beat him to a pulp.

He peeks into the cobbler’s shop.

Upstairs, unseen by Kuroko's blank-faced, peeping, burgling eyes, Kagami is moving in his sleep, twining a cat’s cradle in his drowsy fumbling fingers, snapping a beautiful pattern into a shoe. He takes a breath and sighs, a hiss coming through his lips as he clenches his teeth on the tacks in his mouth. 

Kuroko creeps through the doorway, lingering on the front step as, even at his insignificant height, he has to duck beneath the heels of boots dangling from the ceiling. The whole shop is dark and hanging with shoes and boots, shelves stacked up in orderly rows and filled to bursting. The ceiling and walls are filled to capacity with hanging bundles of shoes. Ornamental slippers, silk shoes with cloth soles, leather boots, sandals, colorful beaded jutti, mojari made of animal hide with durable heels. Beautiful works of craftsmanship made from fine materials, much more expensive and becoming than the humble living quarters, the workshop, the shopfront— and Kuroko spares a thought. Such beautiful wares set out for sale, and yet he can’t make a living? His shop is crammed to the brim with wonderful merchandise, and it sits unsold.

Creeping up the stairs, he sees the reason why. One he’s suspected for a time over the last week as he’s caught glimpses of this guy, holed up in here working late into the night, but up close he can definitely confirm it.

No bed to be seen, a shabby, dirty guy sleeps on a mat, hands lazily roving an array of tools and a half-finished shoe. Rolling over, his hands fall still at last as he slumps to the floor, and his coin purse droops out of his pocket along with nails, spools of thread, measuring tape, and other tools. His pale complexion makes him appear frail and skinny, but Kuroko can see the swell of muscle in his back and arms, in his thick legs. He’s curled up on the rug, but as Kuroko gets closer, he sees he’s much bigger than he looks, probably quite imposing when he’s standing up straight.

And what else does he see. Brown hair with rich red tones and fair skin tinged olive. A nose with a prominent bridge that slopes down. Mediterranean. Who knows which city-state he hailed from. 

Seems he’s not finding much business. He could charge a pretty penny for such beautifully crafted work, but the type of people who could afford that kind of thing don’t want to have dealings with a foreigner employed in a low caste profession. If he were selling silk, perhaps it'd be a different story—

No wonder he’s dressed like a beggar. He very nearly _is_ one.

One might think that would draw sympathy, that Kuroko may find it too low to prey on one facing such hardship already and would leave him in peace, but his eyes remain indifferent and blank. 

One might also think it reckless to come into a person’s home this way. One might think Kuroko would avoid a situation that might get him his second beating before six o’clock. He might have avoided such a serious threat, considering this guy could probably break him with his pinkie. 

But Kuroko’s criminally foolish, and all he’s thinking is that he’s come across a major score, disregarding the danger and overlooking the poor moral character required of him to pilch this guy’s last silver shekel. How can he call himself a thief if he can’t land such an easy target.

Besides, asleep like that, he’s a sitting duck.

_ ‘Come to Mama,’ _ he thinks as his eyes spy the money pouch, exposed just for him.

He approaches the sleeping man, creeps up behind him, around his long legs and up his back, gads this guy is humungous, like— if there was real macro and micro, he and Kuroko would be it. Utterly silent, Kuroko keeps his eyes zeroed in on the purse, _ eyes on the money, bitch. _ He lifts it carefully and gently pulls the drawstring, peering his face in.

A moth promptly flies out into his face, nearly making him sputter.

… Empty? _ Completely _ empty?

He dumps it inside out. There’s nothing in it at all. Not even _lint._ He’d thought the guy looked like he had it rough, but there’s not even a single coin here. How can that be? Maybe it’s in the other pocket? Or perhaps he keeps his money in the shop somewhere... How can there be _nothing?_

Still puzzling over the empty purse, Kuroko doesn’t realize that a fly in his ever-present swarm has broken away from the group and landed on the cobbler’s big nose, which twitches and squirms at the tickling. 

_ ‘This bitch empty—’ _

The sleeping giant rolls suddenly, taking Kuroko with him, laying him out flat with a not insignificant _thud— _

Fuck.

Kuroko lays there stock still, staring at the ceiling, holding his breath to see if he’d wake. Not that it matters. His substantial weight has Kuroko pinned to the floor. He couldn’t squirm out if he wanted to.

He really must be exhausted, because he’s still deeply asleep.

That doesn’t mean he lays still though. The big oaf picks up one of Kuroko’s hands as if somehow in his sleep-addled brain, he can sense where it is. He holds Kuroko's thumb up as if it were a nail, and then hammers it with a little hammer, rapping it hard and with startling accuracy. 

Kuroko clenches his teeth in silent agony, unable to shout out in pain for fear of waking him.

Fuck, what’s next, thumbscrew torture? It’s like the guy _ knows. _ Is this karma? Nah, can’t be. 

He subtly writhes in his grip, but he’s holding fast. Kuroko looks on in bewilderment as he picks up a needle. It gleams wickedly in the light of the dawn, and he has a moment of sheer fright, just before the cobbler dives in with the needle and starts… sewing him.

Or rather, _ them— together. _

Ah great. How’d he get himself into this one. _ Why me. _

He looks up suddenly when he hears the sound of grand trumpets from outside. 

As he has been here thieving and getting spooned by a sleep-hugger, the city has awoken and has started about its business. People have put out their washing, started their breakfast, set up their stalls, and the call of trumpets draws a crowd into the town square as the bazaar opens up for business. Loud shrill voices call out, singing to announce the procession of the Grand Vizier of the palace.

Kuroko’s face falls into an even deeper deadpan.

  
Great, not this guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know movie parody fics have a bad reputation, perhaps especially in this fandom, but please give me a chance.
>
>> Lemme’ get on my soapbox for a minute. I _love_ this film. I got really into it a few years ago and learned a lot about its troubled production.
>> 
>> The Thief and the Cobbler film was a passion project for Richard Williams that was notoriously and egregiously ripped up, heavily altered, and ultimately destroyed by Miramax (and the parent company at the time, Disney), who bought it when it lost the needed funding and ultimately took over and changed the film’s direction completely. Williams lost control of the production at that point. This film took three decades to reach full production, it went through many stages and alternate titles, one of which was _Once,_ and in its final ‘official’ form, it’s been turned into a plethora of abominable alterations that are still shamefully peddled under alternate titles like, _‘Arabian Knight,’_ and ‘Princess and the Cobbler.’ These alternate versions were further edited from the original intent, and even went so far as to add cheesy musical numbers and further bastardized the original script by making the two non-speaking characters, Thief and Tak, into speaking characters. They had Tak voiced by Matthew Broderick, the voice of adult Simba from _the Lion King,_ to give you an idea. What happened to this film is probably the most infamous example of an independent film being destroyed for corporate profit. It was ground up and shoved into a ‘Disney Renaissance Film’ cookie-cutter mold, and was churned out as absolute shit. Then it was further spat on when Disney, after destroying the film, wasn’t happy with the poor profits the destroyed film reaped, and then plagiarized many elements of it in their subsequent film, _Aladdin._ It’s an absolute disgrace. What happened to this movie is a fucking tragedy.
>> 
>> That being said, the original script and artwork of _the Thief and the Cobbler_ is some of the most beautiful ever animated. One of the reasons so much was cut from the shitty versions is because the new producers simply couldn't match the standard of quality Williams set in his team's animation going forward. It is visually stunning, the story itself is wonderful with memorable characters. I cannot stress enough, if you watch this old beloved classic, _please_ watch the Recobbled Cut, which is a fanmade restoration project that used the originally intended storyboards that were donated by many of the original animators. It represents the film in the way it was meant to be viewed, had it gone through production as intended without being bought from Williams. It’s been updated a few times as new material is donated. Mark 4 is available for free online with a little digging. The amazingly detailed artwork will transport you to another world.
>> 
>> This fic is not an attempt to further disgrace this beautiful work. I admire and respect it tremendously. I followed a mixture of the originally intended script, the Mark 4 script, and some original material of my own to better fit the KNB characters' personalities. I hope to pay a small amount of tribute to RW and thanks to him and all the people who lovingly worked on this before it was hijacked. I sincerely hope one day it will be fully restored and completed to its intended state.
>> 
>> RIP, Mr. Williams, and thank you for the decades of passion you put into the arts. Your contribution to the animation of our childhood favorites, Who Framed Roger Rabbit & The Thief and the Cobbler will not be forgotten. ♥


	2. Have no Fear! Have no Fear! ZigZag the Grand Vizier is Here!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kagami gets a rude awakening and an all-expenses-paid trip to the palace, courtesy of Grand Vizier Hanamiya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > This is a fairytale setting and not a historical one. I will make many real-life historical references to things such as the Ishtar gate, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, Caesar of Rome, etc, but just know that this film was meant to be a fictional mishmash of all the ‘mystical’ parts of ‘the Orient,’ so we see Islamic, Indian, Persian, Mesopotamian, and even Chinese elements in the design and the scenery. For example, the film has minarets, we see evidence of a caste system, there are Chinese gardens, and the buildings are a mix of Babylonian and Persian style, and all this exists together in a weird mesh that obviously never existed together historically. It’s meant as an aesthetic choice. 
>> 
>> The story is ‘officially’ set in ancient Babylon, probably shortly after it became part of the Persian Empire, but just know that when I make other historical references to Rome and shit, the dates rarely line up perfectly, so remember it’s just a fairytale in a made-up place and time. The setting is a plot device, not an academic recreation of history. There was no way to do this AU, follow what the movie shows, and make it 100% historically accurate all at the same time. I tried my best, but it’s impossible, and I know there’s stuff that doesn’t make sense time-wise, and the costumes especially, I know are stereotypical and not historically accurate. I tried to be culturally sensitive where possible, and meant no disrespect by these inaccuracies. Please mention if I made a particularly offensive mistake.

A chanting procession cuts through the market square.

The crowd surges forward curiously, old men in robes and headwraps peddling their animals and produce, women sitting forward at their carts, filled with textiles or grains or spices. Intimidating men in black garb are out in front, cracking whips to drive the crowd back from the procession as it parades down the street, but after they pass, the people creep forward again. 

Palace nobles and advisors in white robes with golden lining, silk shoes, large turbans, and ridiculous mustaches sing with the tall eunuch guards who continue to repeatedly cry out and announce the Grand Vizier’s march through the city, throwing flower petals before the procession. It’s grandiose and over the top.

_ ‘This guy must be extra as fuck,’ _ Kuroko thinks as he lays there helplessly while the cobbler starts sleep-stitching them together like crazy. 

The flies are really bothering him as he sews Kuroko closer and closer to him, the cloud of insects buzzing between them and making his nose and face itch. He screws his eyes up tight, snorting.

Kuroko sticks a hand out and scratches his nose for him. A stupid idea, and even more stupidly, the guy actually settles. Kuroko rolls his eyes and shakes his head, then cranes his neck for the window. Let’s get a good look at this colossal dick.

The nobles have passed on and now Kuroko can see fluffy pink ostrich plumes on long gilded poles waving as tall Nubian eunuch guards fan the vizier as he walks. Kuroko can see a hulking black shape in the distance coming down the path.

A comedic procession of servants trot out in front, rolling out an opulent carpet in front of a tall man with eyebrows like tadpoles. Spindly hands glittering with rings, he’s clad in long black robes with gold trim, a gold cap, and gold shoes. He has a cruel haughty face, nose up in the air, the picture of total disdain. Four servants scurry to unroll the carpet in front of him, while four more roll up the second carpet behind him and rush out in front again to roll out the new carpet to receive his next step, so that his jeweled silk slippers never have to stain themselves by touching the dust of the earth.

It’s honestly a mesmerizing sight, a perfect rhythm of movement with this snooty person in the center, floating along like a black cloud. Behind, four huge eunuchs sing out the song and carry a palanquin, pink-curtained and plumed with pink feathers. 

Another woman for the king. 

The whips crack to keep the curious crowd back from its drapes as they parade down the street towards the palace.

Kuroko is so stitched together by now that he’s too disgruntled to attempt an escape. The cobbler has settled down to sleep again at least, but has left him stuck— _ oh, so you wanna’ rob me? Have fun being trapped like a fly in a spider’s web, you fuck. _

As the trumpets bellow out, the cobbler picks up his hammer and whaps it on Kuroko’s noggin in time with the tune. He’s starting to think he’s awake and just pretending to sleep to fuck with him at this rate.

Finally, he can’t stand it— fuck it, he’ll take getting beaten up right out over any more sleep torture— and reaches out and tweaks the cobbler’s nose hard.

He’s been wanting to do that for a while. Those roman noses are so hooky and beaky. 

Well, it does the trick. He lurches up, sitting straight, wide awake and nearly banging foreheads with him, wide-eyed and flabbergasted to have someone right in his face upon waking.   


_ FUCK—?_  


He tries to spring back, and Kuroko scrambles too, but they’re fucking stitched together nose to groin, so all it does is send them tumbling, stuck in a tangled confused knot and hurling down the stairs like a cannonball.  


Now Kagami. Kagami had been dreaming peacefully of the far-off sand and sea.  


Dreaming of Rome, of Corinth. Of Kiyoshi and of Mom and Dad. He dreams of Cyprus and Crete, the Aegean Sea, the grey mountains and the rolling hills, the cool breeze and the plants and the food and the people. 

And most of all, he dreams of shoes.

Just now, he’d been dreaming he was working in his shop, about some slippers of emerald green velvet that he’s been planning to stitch with golden leaves. Jutti, mojari, woven galesh he has planned, leather boots with thick soles. Meticulously detailed visions, as if his waking imagination can go on working in the night though his body must rest— 

He wakes to a terrible shock. Someone is in his shop. He’s being _robbed._

He comes nose to nose with the guy, tangled up somehow, and when Kagami shoves back in fright and rage, they’re yanked right back together. They’re attached, which he realizes when he hurls the guy away from him and ends up getting towed down along with him. They roll and tumble and go flying, rattling down the plank steps one after the other, _ bam, bam, bam, _ one of them splintering under his shoulder as he comes down hard. 

They don’t stop there, going rolling right out the door and flying outside into the street, thrown into the square like a couple of fools, whacking into some poor guy’s chicken cages and startling them in a burst of feathers.

Kagami screws up his face and throws his arms over his head as they bowl through, wary of being trampled since they’ve been thrown into the bazaar, where there would normally be a thick swarming crowd of shoppers, but he’s too overcome with fury to keep that up, not caring much about getting stepped on for the moment.

What the hell was this guy doing? Why was he in his home! Kagami’s been working so hard, and to be stolen from in such a desperate time when he’s been struggling to get by, it’s the last straw.

Kagami’s about to strangle this little shit by the neck and just shake him and vent his frustration, but as they roll to a stop in the street, crashing into the bazaar, sending chickens and pheasants and waterfowl flying, dogs and cats running mad, to make matters worse, Kagami feels his tools spill out from his overburdened pockets, spools of thread rolling off and shoe tacks flying everywhere.

When they come to a stop, head pressed against the ground, the little guy laid out upside down above him, Kagami watches a tack roll away in a long arc, spin in a small circle, and then settle face-up, just as a foot clad in fine golden silk, almost as if in slow motion, sinks down upon it heavily, piercing straight into the flesh. 

_ Ooh— _

He realizes he’s in very big trouble when he sees a fancily dressed man stumble off, hopping and hugging at his foot, yelping and yowling. 

There’s literally a red carpet rolled out for him, finely woven with geometric patterning, a barrier to separate him from the dust and dirt of the street, and Kagami’s tack, his fault or not, has pierced his very, very _rich_ foot. 

Bewildered and still only just awake, Kagami stares up, not knowing what’s going on, only that it’s very unfortunate and very likely to come back and bite him in the ass. The fool of a thief has tugged away from him, breaking the threads, and is shielded behind him as an angry face glares down at him.

Before Kagami has a chance to get his bearings or even think, a long jeweled finger is pointing in his face, sparkling with humongous gems and many many rings, pressing almost into the tip of his nose.

Kagami’s slow to catch onto what he says, it’s not his home language, but he can guess what he’s saying now, summoning guards.

_ “Seize him! Take him!” _ An indignant, angry squawk. 

Noble cronies are laughing and cackling in glee as he’s yanked up by the arms, one under each pit. Kagami stares wide-eyed._ Fuck, fuck, fuck— _ Okay, time to bounce.

He tries to run for it, bowling the thief down with him, who he hadn’t noticed hiding behind him. The guards encircle Kagami with their spears, trampling all over the little thief, who takes the fall and then hobbles off, disappearing into the crowd, the bastard.

_ ‘That’s right, go, you shit. I hope your leg’s broken. Teach you to rob unsuspecting people— ‘ _

Looking for an exit, Kagami gulps, the spears poking into the tender flesh of his neck. Impulsively, he takes a chance and zips down, barreling through their legs and stomping hard on their feet. The guards howl and he rushes off, only for a second wave of guards to charge at him. 

Reaching into his pockets, Kagami throws out whatever he can grab, whipping it into their faces, and they stumble, giving him a chance to bolt. He’s almost made it, but then the huge palace eunuchs, humongous Nubian guards each standing a head above him all converge on him and suddenly a huge polished scimitar crosses in front of his throat and Kagami holds still. Another comes down behind his neck, another and another on each side, boxing his neck with razor-sharp blades. He can’t even swallow without it striking his adam’s apple.

“Take him into the palace!” the important guy shrieks, and before he can try to stumble out an explanation in a cracked and unused voice and in very broken Akkad, Kagami finds himself arrested, carted up, and dragged off.

  
Boiling mad and miserable, he glares at the sky, hands tied, and thinks, _ ‘So help me, Nemesis, if I see that thief again—!’ _

  
The procession moves on in its march, making its way through the city to a glittering palace complex of towering white and gold, contained on a hill in the center of the city behind a high stone wall ringing a moat and a massive drawbridge made of perhaps a hundred sturdy cypress logs. 

High, high up in the towers of the castle, there’s a young woman in a window, looking out upon the city, which sparkles grandly in the morning sun. She plays with some flowers in a vase, swinging them around as she twirls and then arranges them on the windowsill ledge, humming a merry tune. 

As she looks down through the gap in the flowers, she sees down upon the palace drawbridge far below, the gates are open and the drawbridge is lowered to cross the moat. Some guards are taking a person through, his hands pitifully tied together. He’s flat on his back, towed by his wrists on a long rope, face-up and dragging across the ground. 

Curiously, she watches until they make it inside and he’s out of sight. Then she turns, a fragrant whoosh of long rosey hair and glittering veil, and she disappears into the palace.

“Brother! Something’s happening!” she cries, rushing through the corridors, through the halls and up the stairs, in and out of rooms, to the east wing of the palace. Jeweled feet tinkle and jingle on the polished floor as she rushes through an archway, sweeping back a curtain. 

“Brother?” He’s not sleeping where he usually does. It will take ages to find him. He’ll miss the excitement. 

She huffs. Always lazing about.  
  


Satsuki turns and hurries off to the throne room without him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Two kinds of beauty  
Bring a new kind of beauty to light  
Would the sun be such a miracle  
Without the starry counterpoint of night?  
And yet I find it strange  
Though I arrange and arrange  
There's still an empty place in me.  
A missing face I cannot see
> 
> brother 👀


	3. Mombasa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Aomine hears the morning grievances and spots a newcomer.

_ ‘Well that guy’s fucked.’ _

Kuroko follows the procession as it continues on towards the palace, scurrying after at a distance, unnoticed in the crowds as he watches the nobles and the palanquin and the guards march their way up to the entrance to the palace complex with that poor guy who’d gotten nabbed. He’s curious to see where they’re taking him— because okay, yeah, you could make the argument that it’s kind of his fault.

Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t, who’s to say. It’s not in his control anymore and it’s not like it’s his problem either. Looks like he’s getting taken into the palace, probably to get drawn and quartered for their minor scuffle— thaaaat’s unfortunate.

Kuroko watches as they take him across the moat on the drawbridge and up to the doorway. When the gigantic gates open, Kuroko freezes, staring into the sky of the palace. He’s struck dumb, positively dazzled.

Through the humongous doors of the gateway of a massive arch in the palace wall, up on the top of the tallest minaret, three golden balls sparkle on the peak of the spire. 

Of course, the three gold balls of the palace are visible from almost anywhere in the city, but from far away they’re little tiny pinpricks, beads of dew up in the sky. Up close, looking up at them like this, they gleam and sparkle, reflecting in his greedy little eyes, captivating him. He forgets about the poor soul he’s doomed to who knows what terrible fate, utterly remorseless— he forgets about where and who he is, forgets he’s supposed to be hiding. They’re the most beautiful, _beautiful _balls of gold he’s ever seen. They’re magnificent, such a sight to behold, and deep within him, he feels a connection, something about the sight of those balls compels him, absolutely infatuates him.

Before he knows it, he’s stumbling out, wandering towards them, and only snaps out of it, blinking and shaking his head with a frown and a slump of disappointment when two palace guards block his path and the gigantic doors close with a heavy _ boom,_ cutting off his view of the gold balls and leaving him stranded on the outside.

We’ll see about that.

Meanwhile, Kagami’s day is going fucking miserably.

  
Not like he isn’t used to it. He’s lived a hard life by anyone’s standards, short as it’s been. He’s the bastard of a Roman patrician and his mother, a former slave woman. When she died, his father had left him in the care of a traveling cobbler, Kiyoshi, who took him as his apprentice. After all, it’s not as if Kagami’s going to be the son who’ll inherit his father’s wealth and status, favorite though he might be, and he needed to learn a trade.

Kagami had traveled with Kiyoshi through his adolescent years, and they’d eventually come to rest in the Golden City, where he took the trade over for Kiyoshi when he, having come into his prime years, decided to settle and start a family, traveling farther east with a caravan on the silk road. He said he'd visit someday but hasn't returned yet.

Kagami had ended up staying, but he often thinks of home, misses his father and his half-brother Tatsuya, wonders if they are well. He thinks of the grey seaside and the trips they used to take there, the green trees, the rolling hills and the wide-open sky. Wonders if he can see it again someday. 

He doesn’t think he regrets settling here. Rome was magnificent, but he can still remember his first sight of the Golden Land as they’d traveled towards it through the desert, a fantastic city that seemed to be made entirely of gold, amazingly beautiful. The Etemenanki Ziggurat, a beautiful tall tower that stretched up to the sky, built practically to heaven— The Ishtar gates, glazed bricks of brilliant blue more vibrant than the sea, emblazoned with golden lions. And the minarets, capped with the same golden domes as the palace rooves, they sparkle and reflect the sunlight like dazzling stars. As a boy, he was breathtaken, fell in love with a city that he soon realized would never, never love him— 

For the time being, he gets from day to day working as a shoemaker, living in squalor down in the bowels of the city, peddling his wares in the market and sitting late into the night in the darkness of his shop, making shoes and mending shoes and designing shoes and dreaming of shoes for a meager living. Such a profession lands him in a low caste in this country, and as a foreigner who doesn’t speak the language well, he lives in silence, friendless, and stays inside most of the time to keep from attracting undue attention. He’s treated well enough by the other merchants living in the buildings next to him because he’s quiet and minds his own business, but he’s been known to be taken advantage of.

Kagami struggles to make enough money just to feed himself, working constantly and living in rags. Thank fuck Kiyoshi saw fit to leave him the shop or he wouldn’t even have a roof overhead. Over time, he’d lost the golden tan of his youth and has grown pale and pasty from being cooped up indoors, which only makes it more noticeable that he’s a foreigner, and his ragged clothes signal his low social status like a beacon, telling everyone on sight that he’s a person to go unnoticed and swept aside.

He’s found himself wishing more and more over the past year for a single friend, just one, to make such an isolating lonely life bearable. But it’s not to be. 

As if all that weren’t enough to be dealing with, now _this_ bullshit’s happening. 

Fuck, he’s _ really _ boned now. He’d expected to be put in stocks and flogged in the square or some such, but they really are taking him to the palace. Like, _ into it— _

Great. In Rome, he could’ve at least expected a hearing, as the son of a freed woman. Here, he thinks he’d get away lucky if he wasn’t sent for a summary execution. This is such bullshit. He didn’t even do anything wrong. Not on purpose… He’d just woken up and he’d found a home invader tied to him, of course he’d been a little erratic.

He hadn’t known Mr. Rich Snobby Guy had been coming, it was an accident, but he supposes they won’t see it that way. He’s dared harm a member of the palace court with his negligence. Well he’s not gonna’ go out meekly.

God damnit, he needs to get back. His shop is unattended. He won’t be able to sell anything today, and his wares are unguarded against more thieves. He hopes his neighbors will cast a kindly eye over his goods and not abuse him in his absence. 

His back is shredded and sore from getting dragged, his shoulders aching like they’re about to pop from the sockets any second. He lays face-up, looking up into the sky as they pull him across a bridge of logs, up to the palace gates. The humongous doors open, towering above him, a ray of light gliding down as the sun strikes the ancient minaret in the center of the palace courtyard. The colossal gate doors slide open, operated by a huge crank. The edges of the doors are like giant teeth, a zig-zag pattern that interlocks when shut and gapes like a crocodile’s maw when open. He’s taken over the moat and into the palace complex, onto smooth stone tiles, swept and clean.

Kagami stops scowling for a time, in awe at the beauty laid out before him. White sprawling buildings, golden rooftops, exquisite tiling, sprawling gardens bursting with greenery and fountains and statuary, mosaics and relief sculpture, all of which he tries to commit to memory. If ever he can use those images again on a shoe design, he’ll keep them locked away. 

Taken up the palace steps and inside, he can only pray for a merciful king and curse that little shit with an early grave.  
  


_ ‘And I hope his dick shrinks too, dear Lady Justice, hear my plea—’_  
  


Far above Kagami, the clouds and the gods that may or may not lay beyond remain indifferent to his miserable plight, but what lies above him for certain is the king’s castle, crowning the city like a capstone.

Inside the sparkling palace of white and gold lay a vast complex of lavish rooms and terraces, balconies and towers, all with golden peaked domes. At the center of the Golden Land, atop the hill the city is built around, the palace makes its home, and at its peak sits a glittering throne room, a large square-shaped room with huge archways cut into the walls.

A dark floor of black stone polished to a mirror finish lays bare and gleaming but for a long red woven carpet cutting down the center. The walls are golden with interlocking metal bars that twist into a mesmerizing pattern of geometric stars. Large glassless windows with domed arches stretch ceiling to floor, repeated down every wall, letting a breeze blow in the fresh smell of the gardens and displaying a view overlooking the kingdom below. The highest room in the highest building atop the highest peak in the city, and in it lay the throne of the king.

On a raised dais of white marble at the top of a few shallow stairs, King Aomine sits cross-legged and regal on an ornamental pillow, attending to affairs of state— and at his left hand, dozing in a pile of cushions, sprawling down the steps, is the prince, dutifully sleeping through the morning affairs.

Really, he should be given credit for even deigning to attend. Usually he neglects to even show up.

Aomine Daiki is the spoiled and lazy prince of the palace, heir to his father’s empire.

He’s not a son of the king’s primary wife, and is thus deemed an illegitimate layabout by many of the courtiers of the palace, although they’d never dare say so in mixed company. He has many, _ many _ little siblings, and many little _ brothers _ who’d come from father’s higher-ranking wives, which very well may give them more legitimacy to the throne than he has, but he’s the oldest of all the king’s children by far, separated by a large age gap of at least ten years from the next oldest of his siblings. 

He’s the emperor’s first born son, and more importantly, he’s absolutely beloved by his father. 

Aomine had come from a low-ranking concubine who’d died before he reached five years. She was father’s great love, beautiful and kind, known for her gentleness— and her time in the palace was characterized by relentless torment from Aomine’s many aunties, who were jealous she received the attention and love of the king despite her modest status. They were also endlessly resentful that Daiki, the little prince, was treated so well by the king because of his mother’s favor with him, wanting that same favorable treatment to be given to them and their own children too.

At some point Mother grew frail and sick, and eventually passed into the night, and for a long time, it’s as if the world went black before his father’s eyes.

Father grieved her a long, long time, which attributes the large age gap Aomine has with his massive horde of younger siblings. These days, Father continues to accrue wives and children, a long line of sons and daughters, but he grieves her loss even now. Aomine knows he misses her, can see it when Father looks into his face with a sad and wistful eye, can feel it when Father spoils him far more than he ought, keeping him protected and comforted and given all the fine things life has to offer. 

Aomine doesn’t begrudge him the new aunties he’s wed in Mother’s absence. It’s not as if he forgot her a month after her death. He'd grieved her far longer than the respectful interval that would have been expected.

As a king, he must move forward, but he mourns his lost love— and his son by her, Daiki, is his greatest treasure.

In the last year or so, he’s been pressuring Aomine more and more to show some interest in learning how to rule, shoulder some responsibility— he wants to leave the empire to him, most legitimate heir or not— but Aomine has proven aloof and lazy, preferring to continue his lavish and carefree lifestyle of lazing around, which draws the scorn and indignation of everyone in the palace— _ See that, he’s so spoiled he’s gone soft, _they all say. 

_ Not fit to rule. A bad egg— _And maybe they’re right.

But maybe, just maybe, they’re overlooking something important. The secret kept deep in Aomine’s heart. Perhaps he’s not as lazy and disinterested as he seems. Perhaps he’s not a bad egg. Perhaps he’s at a crux.

Caught between a rock and a hard place. He desperately craves the approval of his father, wants so much to live up to his name, but he’s caught between wanting to deserve the pride his father has in him, and his own doubts.

A small fluttering doubt, that secretly, he’s afraid he won’t make a good king.

The clatter of bells breaks the peaceful silence, and a lovely girl runs into the throne room in pink robes, decked head to toe with gold bangles. She wears wide silk shalwar pants with golden ankle cuffs, belted by a beaded chain of rattling silver. Her top is covered by a long robe of woven pink and gold, wrapped over her shoulder and tied at her waist with a gold sash to keep it in place, but her bare arm and midriff show through the gap at her side when she moves, revealing a small choli top. A sheer pink veil cascades down her hair in a transparent glimmering wave, another short one covering her face and neck, hanging with embroidered strings of beads.

Rings and bracelets, big gold earrings, and head capped with a sparkling tiara, she’s a pleasing, glittering sight, bells at her toes and pearls tasseling her top. Her jewelry jingles as she runs, silk slippers sliding on the polished floor and causing her to stumble on her way up the slick marble steps. Her attendants follow like a loyal pack of hunting dogs, lingering in the doorway and waiting dutifully.

Princess Satsuki, his favorite sister, first daughter of the king— 

Really, it should be her where he sits— _ sleeps— _now. He doesn’t know why Father doesn’t invite Satsuki to hear the morning affairs instead of him. She’s genuinely interested in the kingdom’s politics and their people’s troubles, their military ventures and their trade agreements with other kingdoms. 

When Aomine doesn’t pay attention, she listens, soaking it up with her sharp mind. Where Aomine is slovenly and selfishly careless, she is a responsible and reliable presence, waiting unseen and unacknowledged at their father’s side, a thankless post. 

Honestly, if she were a son and not a daughter, she’d be the perfect prince— the prince everyone keeps on hoping Aomine will turn out to be.

Rather than continue waiting for Aomine to step up and show an interest in ruling, Satsuki should be the one sitting where he is now, listening attentively and learning from father, but _ bla bla bla, _Daiki is the first son and the one in line to inherit the empire, so never mind her.

Aomine doesn’t see why she shouldn’t at least be included too. It’s not as if when he starts to take over as king, he’s not going to rely on her for advice and support, his favorite sister and only friend. He’s told Father that time and again, even going so far as to joke that he should give the crown to Satsuki instead, far more suited for the role than he is— but it always falls on deaf ears.

Father always did say that Satsuki never learned a woman’s place.

Satsuki stumbles into his bed of pillows, her hands sinking in as she crawls, leaning into his lap, jewelry dangling, veil hanging down and brushing his sleeping face.  
  
Dad ignores her entrance and continues to attend his scrolls, fooling no one, his shoulders easing slightly at the merry sound of her jingling bells tinkling through the room, always happiest to be surrounded by his children even if they’re disobedient and unruly.

“Wake,” she hisses, _ “Wake, my brother.” _

He twitches and grunts, snorting fitfully, slumping over in his feather cushions. But dainty hands cupping his face and a swift peck to the cheek has Aomine opening his eyes.

“What?” he hums, yawning, not bothering to sit forward. 

“Something’s happening,” she says in a hushed voice, insistently tugging at him, not letting him go back to sleep.

He glances at their father, who pretends not to have noticed his obvious and obnoxious sleeping on the job, and then straightens up, stretching and yawning. 

He isn’t scolded for neglecting his duties, which really are just to wake early and sit with Father and hear the morning grievances as they circulate in and out. Basically, sit and look princely and watch how it’s done from Dad so he can learn from him. Crop reports, infighting between the lords, tax collection— _Boring, boring, boring._ But it’s expected of him as heir to the title. 

Today— Something interesting seems to be happening today. 

Aomine lounges back in his cushions and makes room for Satsuki to perch at his side in the pillows, arm moving back to circle her and hug her against him. She curls up just at his shoulder, sitting straight and attentive, a sweet fragrant weight of silk fabric and gold beads. They look towards the doors. She’s right, he _ can _ hear something going on out there.

When the doors open in a burst, she rises, sheer silk pants floating like a cloud against the side of his face. She hops out of the pillow pile and moves to stand quietly behind Father’s shoulder, hands modestly clasped in front of her. Aomine frowns at the commotion he can hear outside. Even Father sets his papers aside and looks up as a group of people come down the long hall leading in and enter the throne room.  
  
Aomine’s mood sours immediately.

Hanamiya, that fool, has come with a palanquin, hanging with curtains of rich fuschia velvet that conceal the interior, plumed with rose-colored feathers set onto a golden box frame. Servants and guards swarm around to attend it like black beetles on a magnolia.

_ ‘This again,’ _ he thinks in irritation. 

There’s some more guards in the back that seem not to be with the arriving party, accompanying a pale, grubby scarecrow of a guy who Aomine only spares a glance.

Hanamiya announces himself, and Aomine rolls his eyes, sighing heavily. He’d been hoping for something interesting. When Grandmaster Bullshitter pauses for a beat, waiting for the king’s acknowledgement, Aomine huffs, “Oh. It’s you,” grumbling scornfully, laying back on his cushion throne with open disrespect, knees splayed, arms out wide behind him.

Father gives him a glance but says nothing. Hanamiya’s fake-ass smile doesn’t waver, but his eyes glint with malice. 

He moves closer to the king’s side, climbing a step or two, and the palanquin is brought before the steps, rotated by the guards carrying its four posts. Aomine perks an eyebrow. A pleasure woman brought for his father—?

_ ‘Or is this one for me again?’ _ he wonders.

Hanamiya lays it on thick as he always does, flattering Father and trying to work into his good graces, the slime. Aomine can barely keep back from gagging aloud, but he does have to admit, the guy has a mesmerizing way of talking that sort of hypnotizes you and holds you a captive listener no matter what bullshit he’s spewing— he’s an admittedly compelling speaker, and even Aomine, who’d rather go back to sleep and snub Hanamiya with his rudeness, pays attention.

“As a respite from your tiresome duties, my king, I’ve gone to great lengths to bring before you, _ a plaything.” _ Leaning in to the king with a smirk, he murmurs conspiratorially, “from far south of Gaza, a bountiful maiden from _ Mombasa—” _

Aomine can hear the courtiers snickering. He leans forward in his cushions when a silky smooth hand peeks out from behind the curtains of the palanquin, a very alluring hand— “Oooh,” he hums.

Father seems interested too all of a sudden. “Mombasa?”

Aomine smirks gleefully when he hears Satsuki sigh in annoyance, giving her a mischievous glance of boyish glee. He’d tell Dad to give her something nice to look at too once in a while— some tasty treat of a manservant, y’know, to keep it fair— but it’s not as if he actually wants Dad to get the idea in his head to start pushing suitors on her, so he’s kept his mouth shut about it. 

There’s a flurry of clumsy movement from the back, behind the palanquin and waiting in the doorway, and all of a sudden, Aomine notices the one among them who’s out of place, a young man in cuffs standing in the back. Eyebrow raised in curiosity, he takes a look at the newcomer.

Today really is different after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who dat boi


	4. Who is This?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aomine kills two birds with one stone. Fuck with Hanamiya and help the cute boy—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Ref to Satsuki’s outfit](https://fromthepagesofhistory.files.wordpress.com/2013/01/image.jpeg?w=538)

Aomine casts a fleeting onceover to the turbaned guard that brings forward a ragged-looking young man. His hands are cuffed in front and he stumbles, tripping over his own feet, junk spilling all over the place as it falls from his pockets. Pins and spools of thread drop onto the carpet, metal implements and little bits of wood soundlessly hitting the rug and then rolling onto the marble floor with a clatter.

Satsuki perks her head up curiously, so Aomine looks too, dragging his eyes away from the curtained carriage and the feminine laughter coming from Father’s woman within. 

He glances back again, and then double-takes. 

A foreigner. He can tell right off because of his coloring and the shape of his nose. Skin the color of cream, a complexion almost as fair as Satsuki, a palace woman who’s been shielded from the sun in a life of leisure. He’s dirty and underfed and his clothes are covered in patches. He’s tall, but he hunches, looking battered and beaten down. However, his eyes are alert and bright, face set with a vicious and defiant stare.

His hands are full of pins, which he quickly stuffs back into his bursting pockets. Some he even shoves in his mouth. He has thick split eyebrows and a nose that tapers down slightly. Tufts of chestnut brown hair peek from underneath a dirty cap, framing a face that’s creased with bitterness, a face that Aomine watches utterly transform before his eyes when it turns up towards his, relaxing into something sweet and handsome.

He thinks at first that he’s caught sight of Satsuki and is shamelessly goggling, dazzled by her— it wouldn't be the first time— but he just as soon realizes he’s looking at _ him, _staring openly, an intense awed gaze. So bold, to dare look him in the eye, but as the moments pass, he doesn’t pull away, face slack with innocent curiosity and a quiet wonder that flatters Aomine greatly. 

Aomine blinks and comes out of it, shaking himself ever so slightly as he feels his heart start to thump warmly.

For all the benefits that come with being a prince, Aomine has grown up living a very sheltered life. He has never been outside the palace walls. The most he’s seen of the outside comes from looking down on the city from windows, or showing his face during the public appearances he makes when Father addresses his people directly from the palace balcony above the square. As such, Aomine has never had dealings with worldly people, never had a personal relationship with someone from outside the palace. He certainly has never interacted with a foreigner, at least not an ordinary one— ambassadors don’t count.

Not removing his eyes from the young man, who is still blinking up at him owlishly, Aomine feels his interest surge.

He leans forward in his seat, his drowsiness fleeing him. What a charming boy. 

“Who is this?” he voices, interrupting Hanamiya’s prattling.

_ ‘You should’ve brought him to me instead of the palanquin—’ _

Hanamiya pauses, and offers him a look that just _ barely _ doesn’t qualify as openly snide. Father is sufficiently distracted by his new lady friend, enough not to notice Aomine’s glower when Hanamiya pretends as though he hasn’t heard him.

“My king, as I made my way to the palace, I was attacked in the square by this lowly cobbler,” he proclaims. 

Aomine folds his arms, shoulder lowering. He feels his father ice over as well. 

_ ‘Oh…’ _ he thinks uncomfortably. _ ‘A cobbler—’ _

Aomine feels himself draw back and close off somewhat, having been brought up to refuse association with someone so beneath him in social standing, but he can’t deny a lingering curiosity. He’s a little dirty, sure, but he doesn’t look at all untrustworthy. His emotions are plastered all over his face, a beacon of honesty to the whole room. 

He seems so vibrant. So— fascinating.

Aomine’s never been this close to someone from the lowest caste, and can’t quite curb his curiosity. He can only bring himself to half-heartedly avoid the intensity of his gaze.

The poor kid is still staring up at Aomine like he’s just seen Inanna pull back the clouds in the sky, stick her brilliant head through, and say _ ‘I am Inanna, Queen of Heaven, on my way to the east—’ _He's utterly gobsmacked. 

As such, he doesn’t see it coming when Hanamiya whacks him in the nose with an outstretched finger, causing him to snap out of it at last, jolting back and shaking himself like a dog. He looks surprised, then incensed, red with fury, but he remains silent.

“His offense is punishable by execution,” Hanamiya coos. 

Aomine’s nose wrinkles in disgust. His sadistic glee in preying on someone from the bottom rungs of society, a person who’s essentially defenseless, it’s revolting.

Cobbler Boy tries to scramble back, but Hanamiya wrangles him, a hand at the back of his neck, fisted in his collar like he’s some mangy mutt. His face is twisted in a vicious glare, but he drops his gaze in a begrudging show of submission, keeping his mouth shut.

Aomine’s brow furrows. There’s no way this guy did any such thing to deserve a beheading.

He glances to Father, known for his firm hand but also for his mercy, and waits to see what he has to say about it. Father casts a cursory glance for the young man, who stares at the floor in dejection.

“Ah,” he hums, stroking his beard. “Hanamiya. If you deem it appropriate.”

Aomine scowls nastily at Hanamiya, but he keeps his mouth shut, knowing well enough not to contradict Father’s judgement, especially not when they have company. 

That doesn’t mean he has to like it.

_ ‘One of these days, Hanamiya, Dad won’t be around to stop me banishing you—!’ _

Aomine keeps his mouth shut for once, but Satsuki, brave and fierce, speaks up, completely out of turn, and stares Hanamiya in the face, demanding, “But what has he done?”

Hanamiya’s silent for a moment, taken aback, and Aomine knows why. Satsuki’s scarier than Tiamat sometimes, damn. Father looks up, but Satsuki stands firm. She’s always had balls of steel.

She never had learned a woman’s place, it’s true— 

Aomine always hates to hear Father say that when Satsuki shows her hand, fierce as a tiger, gentle as a lamb. It infuriates him because he knows those words would break Satsuki’s heart to bits. 

If he could advise her in such, Aomine would tell her to seek Dad’s love but not the king’s approval, because the king and their father are two different people, and the father that loves his fiery daughter is also a king who scorns a headstrong princess.

Dad’s just old school that way, putting up a surface front of favoring his son when it came to worldly matters and relegating her to a secondary role in the shadows, a role of waiting patiently to be married off— so then she could continue playing second fiddle to her husband. 

But every so often, something like this will happen. Satsuki will talk good sense, attentive and fully cognizant of the situation, of the goings-on of the palace, and Dad will hear her advice, will see her brilliant mind and hear the truth in it, and he’ll swell with pride before he has the chance to reflexively dismiss her to her _ place. _Whether or not he pretends to have dismissed her opinion, sometimes he seems to privately consider her wise words, and take them into account. 

Sometimes even Aomine is jealous of her ability to impress Father that way. She has bravery and will the likes of which he’s never known, and the depths of her kindness and generosity are a marvel.

Satsuki may have never learned a woman’s place, but the way Aomine sees it his sister’s place is on the throne.

Aomine smugly looks to Hanamiya, who’d been momentarily struck dumb by her boldness. _ ‘What do you have to say to that, huh—?’ _

He’d ignored Aomine earlier, instead choosing to plead to the king rather than address him directly, but he doesn’t dare ignore Satsuki. 

“Ah, forgive me, Princess,” he simpers. “This cobbler has attacked me!” He holds up a tiny shoe tack as demonstration. 

“Is that so,” she muses thoughtfully, with clear reservations. 

Aomine settles back, lazy layabout attitude kicked up to max. Eyebrows raised, he lets out a deep hum. This pathetic guy. So scorned by being pricked with a pin, he’d put a guy to death for such a grievous wrong done to him. Only thing hurt is Hanamiya’s pride.

Hanamiya’s eyes narrow, but he ignores Aomine’s needling. “Yes,” he hisses.

“Wow, looks lethal,” Aomine mutters, and Hanamiya positively _ seethes. _

“Hmph,” Satsuki huffs, unconvinced, hands on her hips. Father seems skeptical too, having been swayed to their side.

Not one to let things go, Hanamiya persists, “We cannot allow such an offense to stand, your highness. He cannot go unpunished.”

He whips out his staff, a telescopic wand that unfurls behind the poor unsuspecting cobbler’s neck and then crushes him to the floor. Aomine hears his kneecaps hit the stone with a crunch as he folds up and is made to press his forehead to the floor.

Aomine looks down at him, forced to prostrate himself at their feet, a pitiful sight, and notices that although he doesn’t struggle, he practically vibrates with fury.

He’s vaguely aware of Hanamiya cajoling Father, background chatter that goes in one ear and out the other as he pleads his case, too captivated watching the disgraced cobbler boil over with resentment and humiliation, head on the ground, hands bound together as if they’re clasped to beg. 

He scowls thoughtfully.

Now Aomine and Hanamiya have been playing a passive-aggressive game of three-dimensional chess for as long as he can remember. 

Hanamiya, as the grand vizier, has the ear of his father, and often manipulates him into decisions that benefit Hanamiya at the expense of the helpless soul that ran afoul of him, leading Father’s good judgement astray. Aomine’s raised the matter to the king, but is always dismissed.

Hanamiya makes his name as a sorcerer, with some kind of connection to an otherworldly power. Aomine is skeptical, but Father is a superstitious man, and has bought it hook, line, and sinker. Not that Aomine doubts that Hanamiya has some nasty tricks up his sleeve or that he’s capable of black magic, it’s just that he doesn’t trust him— 

Somehow or other, Hanamiya has gained Father’s implicit trust, which obviously is irritating enough. But it’s not just that.

Aomine’s long suspected that Hanamiya has _ designs _ on Satsuki, if you know what he means, and Aomine is a wrathful and unforgiving brother. That alone is enough to incur an unending grudge.

So naturally, Aomine harbors an intense brooding dislike for him— and because he can’t get Father to dismiss him from his post, Aomine’s taken it upon himself to make Hanamiya’s life hell. Embarrass him, harass him, and just generally take every opportunity possible to make him look like a fool.

Hanamiya’s not a stupid man by any means, and knows an enemy when he sees one, but instead of picking off a political adversary with his usual ease, he’s left in a delicate situation when the enemy is the Emperor’s first-born son, heir to his title and to the kingdom, the crowning jewel of his empire. So it’s not as if he can really fight back in any obvious way.

Aomine wouldn’t put it past him to try and poison him or something, but his current plan seems to be to try and get Aomine married off, because lately he keeps coaxing Father to start urging him into choosing a wife— and it’s worked.  
  
Prince Daiki is notoriously lazy, and he’s also notoriously single.

He’s infamously lewd, completely careless about being caught masturbating by staff or lounging naked in the bath far longer than is deemed appropriate. He always sits in interest when women dance for his father’s pleasure, always waking from his nap when he’s seated at the side of the throne snoozing and a girl is brought from _ Mombasa _ for his father’s entertainment, unabashed in admiring their beauty. He’s even gone so far to commission an image of Ishtar be carved into one of his rooms in the palace, specifically ordering she be given really exaggerated breasts and hips— so he can _ ‘pray’ _one-handed.

The way he sees it, he should be given kudos for his restraint. He doesn't have a lover to turn to, so what else is he supposed to do.

Aomine can remember a few years ago, first starting to grow up into a young man, cautioned by his father not to spread his seeds to common women. He’s never been outside the palace to even have the chance to meet one— although he supposes he could always order that one be brought, but that seems like a lot of effort. 

It's not as though he can just accost a servant girl either, he's not a monster. And obviously, the women in his father’s harem are off-limits to him too.

So his love life has sort of languished... 

He doesn’t mind it so much. After all, what he desires most is freedom from his princely responsibilities more than anything else, and has avoided all talk of marriage as well— 

But lately, due to Hanamiya’s influence no doubt, his father has been advising him more and more to take his first wife this year, and his vizier has been bringing them in by the heaps from the neighboring empires and smaller kingdoms. Dazzling princesses, daughters of nobles brought by hopeful and greedy fathers, the most beautiful girls that can be found in the villages, brought out to dance for his pleasure. 

It’s past time for him to choose a bride. Or at the very least, amass some courtesans.

This is where the game begins, the objective of which is to drive Hanamiya absolutely mad with rage.

When Hanamiya brings in women for the king’s harem, he also shows off girls to Aomine for marriage, very accommodating in giving him his pick of potential wives, but Aomine invariably denies them all.

If it’s a noblewoman or a princess, someone they’d actually find suitable for him to wed if he showed any interest, Aomine turns up his nose in scorn no matter how exquisitely beautiful, no matter how fine. He dismisses them with a snide comment about their breasts being too small for his liking. Or her face was crooked. Or her hair's the wrong color— complaints that everyone knows don't matter a trifle.

It frustrates Hanamiya to no end.

Worse still, if they are ordinary girls, poor and modest, virgins brought from the villages as some kind of sacrificial lamb for his libido— meant to be his concubines to pop him out some sons and provide some entertainment— if that is the case, Aomine invariably _ accepts. _

Indiscriminately so. With none of the usual scrutiny that he places upon the noblewomen brought as potential wives, rehearsed and proper, announced by emissaries and chaperoned closely, shown off like trophies and forbidden by etiquette from speaking with him directly or from showing any personality.

Instead he casts a cursory glance to pretend to appraise them, sometimes not even that, and then accepts them in. 

Which pisses Hanamiya off, because he knows exactly what Aomine’s doing. Refuse the wives, accept the common girls so lowly they weren’t even fit to be palace maids— and then he’ll sit back and watch Hanamiya go bonkers. It’s great fun.

He knows Hanamiya must be on to him by now. It’s not hard to figure out, because Aomine always accompanies it with some kind of offhand remark that gives away the game. 

For example, once Hanamiya spent _ months _ searching the city for the five most beautiful virgins, had them rounded up and brought to the palace, groomed to their best, and trotted out for him in a line, and as Hanamiya waited expectantly, brimming with satisfaction, Aomine, standing there with Satsuki, arms folded in aloof appraisal, held back a remark about how the _‘two most beautiful virgins’ _ were already in the palace standing before him, what should he want with five more?

The girls stand and wait, unveiled and undecorated, and Aomine accepts. Hanamiya looked triumphant for one shining moment before Aomine cut his sails.

He turned to the princess and went, _ ‘Satsuki, you want more sisters for the harem—?’ _

And he just watches Hanamiya’s face _ drop. _ He had to stop himself from cackling aloud. 

He still has to fight it whenever he thinks of it. Fuck, it was so good.

And on and on with the game. Satsuki will always try to look disapproving, but her eyes dance and glow. She’s in on the joke by now.  
  
It must amount to twenty or so girls in his harem by now, and he knows Hanamiya’s ready to go fucking _ batshit. _

Officially, they’re his concubines, and reside in the imperial harem, but he makes no use of them. They’re only there as pawns in a game of mind-fuck chess he’s playing with Hanamiya, which is why Hanamiya’s gotten so frustrated, because he _knows_ it too— 

Aomine leaves them unharassed and allows them to live in the palace in leisure and comfort. The way he sees it, he gets to drive Hanamiya up the wall, which is always a win in his book. The girls bring honor to their families and they do not have to fear a nightly summons to his quarters— he supposes one day he’ll have to let them go, perhaps after he wins the game, whatever winning means. And Satsuki, who resides in the harem, she has some new faces to greet. Father’s women are their aunties, but Aomine’s are her sisters. And his game has given her many, many sisters to be friends with.

Needless to say, Hanamiya’s _ chafed. _

Because he can’t even call Aomine on his bullshit or do anything about it really except bide his time and brood. It’s glorious.

All that being said, Aomine already has a history of fucking with Hanamiya and making his life difficult for the sake of it, he likes throwing a wrench in his works just to watch him squirm. So when the poor cobbler is brought out to them on a bogus death sentence, clearly having gotten on Hanamiya’s bad side by accident somehow, Aomine of course wants to stop this.

He would’ve helped him just to foil that snake’s wicked, sadistic plans, but he has to admit, it wouldn’t only be for the sake of ruining Hanamiya’s day. There’s more.

Those red-brown eyes meeting his so boldly, wide and warm with such awe, Aomine has to admit he feels a soft spot in his heart.

He watches him now, head smushed to the floor, a pensive frown creasing his lip. He’s drawn out of it when he sees him move, ever so slightly.

Unnoticed by anyone else, the cobbler moves his head, rolls it to the side just a little to peek an eye out, teeth gritted around the pins in his mouth. Aomine watches a hand creep forward to discreetly pick up the tacks that had spilled onto the floor when Hanamiya pushed him down. Aomine can’t stop a smile. 

He’s just reaching out for some string when Hanamiya lets go of him for a moment, and he immediately tries to shuffle back, but just turns himself into a stumbling block for Hanamiya, who pricks himself on the scattered tacks and yelps. They fall over each other into a pile, tumbling and slipping on the polished marble floor and collapsing in a heap. 

“Ow! Ow, you fool!” he shrieks.

Father is perplexed, having missed what exactly had happened. Satsuki starts laughing into her hands. Aomine laughs aloud, which is never allowed when hearing royal matters, but Father is too distracted to disapprove, and the sight of them tumbling like that is so funny he can’t help it.

The cobbler looks aghast, like he doesn’t know what’s happened, as if to say, _ oh god, _ _ I was just trying to pick up a tack, _ and Aomine suspects that may be what Hanamiya had gotten offended about in the first place, some circumstantial mishap which was no fault on the cobbler’s part.

He just looks so mortified, and Hanamiya falling like that, completely undignified, that was priceless. Aomine throws his head back and laughs and laughs.  
  
“Oh let him go, Your Highness,” Satsuki says, trying to say composed, but her voice quavers. Aomine doesn’t even bother, cackling away as they scramble around on the floor to right themselves. “What harm has been done that his life should be forfeit…”

What Aomine does next, he might later blame on wanting to annoy Hanamiya, but he can’t deny the cobbler has thoroughly caught his interest and has his attention. He’s absolutely charmed him.

While the _ grand vizier _is yanking his aging father around by the nose, trying to take advantage and cajole him to throw the poor boy in the dungeon, Aomine hooks his finger into the heel of his shoe and discreetly slips it off his foot. 

_ A king must learn mercy, _ as Father always says.  
  
He takes it in both hands and bends it in half until it snaps.

“Father,” he hums, pulling out the trump card to get Dad’s attention even though he knows in mixed company, he should show respect and address him as _ My King— _

It does the job, drawing Father’s gaze and an attentive ear. “Yes, my son.” 

“At the moment, I _ need _ a cobbler.” 

He shows his frayed shoe, the two pieces hanging by the threads, lets it dangle by the heel from his fingertip. Satsuki looks at him in surprise, and Hanamiya in dawning horror.

Father nods. “Ah yes,” he agrees, thinking nothing of granting his every whim, as always. 

The cobbler looks astonished, abandoning his frantic venture of scooping up his scattered tools, hands falling lax, the tacks in his mouth slipping as his jaw slackens. Aomine smiles at him.

Then lets it grow into a smirk when he sees Hanamiya’s face going red with rage. _ Suck on that, you snake— _

Satsuki laughs in delight, like bells, and it seems decided. Aomine leans forward with the shoe, handing it down the steps. Hanamiya seethes with frustration, and that should be satisfaction enough.

But the real prize is the amazement in the cobbler boy’s face when he holds his shoe out to him. He stares for a beat, then startles and holds his hands out to accept the broken pieces of his slipper, cradling them on his palms.

Aomine smiles, gaze lingering. 

He’s glad he rose early this morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder. This is a fairytale. They’re going to fall in love unreasonably quickly. Suspend your disbelief and just go with it.
>
>> [Prince Aomine](https://66.media.tumblr.com/e72015d46a0d7c0b679f8437d9fd8b38/9be3ea960c430e13-fb/s1280x1920/a24cefd1423f43ef068200db17c39b05f4e68f80.jpg)  
[Aomine 2](https://66.media.tumblr.com/63eccd1b66a4f56d1705215b88b41140/9be3ea960c430e13-14/s1280x1920/a36406e78ea4b5fe731343d699062ea40fccbcba.jpg)  
[Aomine 3](https://66.media.tumblr.com/e903126c093f70922f8792aaea8bbea8/9be3ea960c430e13-c4/s1280x1920/0b1a18d80c160270f19db6e673ba72bcb37dbf4d.jpg)


	5. O, Rose of the Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kagami meets Prince Daiki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [palace ref](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/ec/78/cc/ec78cce4eee516f61b54520b8ee445ef.jpg) [city ref](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/12/2c/11/122c116807b3510dd8468d1568d6e531.jpg)

As Kagami is dragged through the palace courtyard and into the palace itself, a towering castle of white marble, gold caps, and tiles of jade, he finds it is even more fabulous on the inside, more wealth in a single floor tile than he could hope to amass in ten lifetimes, _ a hundred— _

He admires it as much as he can, but it’s hard. He’s in pain, back ripped to shreds, and he’s scared, bound up and brought in by the palace guards, finally allowed to walk once they get up the steps and inside. Other than dragging him on the ground like a hind of meat, they haven’t been harsh with him, not speaking to him and simply leading him behind the procession, and once they let him get up, they don’t even see fit to hold his arms and drag him, letting him walk on his own.

He stares and goggles around the exquisite halls, glittering with gold and jewels and fine marble pillars with ornamental trim. Tapestries and vases and decorative carpets drape every floor and wall. If today is his last day, he’ll end it with a beautiful final memory.

He doesn’t have much to go off of, but the man he’d pissed off seems to be in favor with the king, because Kagami realizes that he’s being brought in with the procession, Mr. Fancy Pants having seen fit to interrupt the king’s day with such a trifle. This advisor must really want to make a display of him. He’s going to be brought right to the feet of the king. 

Kagami felt a flutter of nervousness, but supposes this may be preferable as opposed to being sent straight to the dungeon. Everyone knows of the king’s mercy and fatherly hand, and being brought to him may be to his advantage— but will Kagami get the chance to say his piece, defend himself before any slander, that’s the thing he worries about.

The palanquin was sent in first, presumably so the vizier can show off the woman he’s brought for the king, kept hidden in a luxurious pink-curtained palanquin that they’d paraded through the streets before Kagami had happened to cross their path. 

When they shove him forward at last, Kagami has to try hard not to stumble, his feet skidding on the polished floor like the surface of the icy lake back home in Rome’s winter. His tools are spilling out of his pockets, setting him on edge— he can do nothing to stop it with his wrists tied together the way they are. He doesn’t bother trying to decipher the conversation going on between the king and his vizier, not understanding a word of it anyways, and bides his time, waiting for a moment he can reach down and gather his fallen tools.

From the glimpse he’d taken, the emperor seems calm, with a mild temperament, but is distracted with other matters, not sparing his attention to Kagami just yet. Why would he when he’s thoroughly engrossed in the pleasure woman his vizier had strategically seen fit to bring him.

For the moment or so he dares to look before shooting his eyes back to the floor, head down, he’s met with an exquisite sight— the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. 

A palace woman, her face covered with semi-transparent fabric that shimmers beneath little beaded tassels of tiny gold chain and teases glimpses of her sweet lips. Long lashes wink out above a veiled face, framing large eyes of deep violet. Her hair is loose and plunges practically to her thighs, long and unbound, covered only by a sheer sheet of pink crepe, hanging down her back in a silky wave. Her shapely breasts cut down into a slim waist and wide hips. He can see through the gossamer cloth of her pants, her smooth legs sloping up within, tiny feet capped with cute little slippers that curl at the toes. Decked head to toe with pink silk and gold jewelry, she’s a glorious vision of grace and beauty.

She’s standing at the side of the emperor, who is older than Kagami would have guessed, certainly older than Caesar, grey peppering his dark beard. He wears royal robes embroidered with rich gold thread, an exquisite white and gold kaftan coat. A feathered turban is on his head, and he sits with his legs crossed. He’s not as frightening as Kagami would have anticipated either. He indeed does have a warm and fatherly look about him.

What captures his attention is the young man sprawled there beside the throne in a pile of cushions, one who can only be Crown Prince Daiki.

He’s dressed completely inappropriately for royal court. The angrakha coat that should be covering his top is strewn on the marble steps, his dark bare skin laid out on display. A long sinuous body lounging back in a bed of luxurious ornamental pillows, he wears only a blue vest that lay open at the chest, showing off a beautifully sculpted torso. Loose sirwal of dark blue silk with decorative gold needlework drape his legs. A golden circlet is set into his dark hair, plumed with a long feather that curves back over his head. A bright blue jewel glows on his forehead, a teardrop of sapphire that hangs from the center of his crown. His hands and arms look heavy with gold jewelry, thick golden bracelets cuff his wrists and big jeweled rings kiss his knuckles. His ankles hang with delicate golden chains and his ears sparkle with gold. Even his navel is set with a glittering blue gem.

He seems to have only just woken, and can’t bring himself to be bothered to even muster more than surface interest, lounging back looking unamused. 

All of it, head to toe, it’s all blue. Even the color is expensive. Kagami can’t imagine the price of all the indigo dye it took to make those clothes, the price of every shard of gold that went into the fibers of those threads, the many hours of craftsmanship that went into that jewelry. The gems on his hands, the sapphires sparkling on his earlobes, the jewel dangling on his forehead, set into his circlet, and _ fuck me— _ look at his shoes. Blue silk slippers encrusted in gold leaf that curl up at the toes, worth more than Kagami’s life. _ Easily. _

Everything about him is an obnoxious display of wealth and privilege. Clothing, jewelry, shoes, body language and all. Now Kagami knows why — barring the golden balls on the minaret — Prince Daiki is the jewel of the palace.

All at once he seems unearthly, too gorgeous and perfect to possibly be real, and yet, in his clear boredom and irritation with the babbling of his father’s vizier, he seems oddly human, perhaps how Kagami might look if he were roused from sleep prematurely.

Kagami can’t seem to take his eyes off him. He’s captivating. Just watching him move, the subtle shift of his chest and stomach as he breathes, a lazy blink of his eyes here and there, his ringed hands fiddling with a tassel on a pillow, it’s like seeing some fantastical vision— a nymph at the waterside, a hydra, a centaur, it's like seeing something magical and waiting for the vision to disappear when you come to your senses again, and then the utter amazement you feel when that vision moves before your very eyes— 

Kagami tunes back in to the vizier’s prattling around then, catching the tail end of his schpiel about the women he’d brought for the king. He’s not really able to hear much because he’s still in the back, not ready to be presented yet. Not that he’d understand such flowery language anyways. 

Prince Aomine sits forward, showing some interest. A girlish giggle trills out for the king, and Kagami can’t see what’s happening. Maybe she’d opened the curtain and shown them all her tits— that’s sure what it looks like, because the prince is getting an eyeful, a big old smirk on his lazy face.

Kagami glowers, the illusion breaking. _ Gross. _

He would’ve figured. A rich boy wallowing in his wealth. He’d bet money, if he had it, that Prince Daiki has never even experienced the sensations of hunger or thirst. Never worked a day in his life and felt his muscles strain or done anything on his own. Never experienced pain, hasn’t so much as pricked his finger and bled a drop of blood. He probably doesn’t even know what it is to cry. To truly understand suffering, the human condition. How can he, born into a paradise.

That’s when they shove Kagami forward, and he snaps out of his daze. It knocks more shit out of his pockets, wouldn’t you know. _ Motherfucker— _

He realizes the girl is looking right at him, and it’s just as he realizes that that he sees another head turn, and the moment he feels the prince’s gaze fall upon him, it’s… it’s indescribable. 

Kagami just feels his jaw slacken, pins sliding in his teeth, because he realizes suddenly, when he looks into eyes that gleam like two dark crystals, he realizes that glittering head to toe like that, bedecked in gems and gold, it had detracted from his features. Kagami hadn’t actually taken a good look at his profile, and when he does— 

Oh, what a face— 

He’s beautiful.

Kagami just gazes in awe, his body warming up the longer it goes on, because the prince’s eyes don’t fall away from his, holding them steadily. He feels dazed, and then a spark of excitement, the amazing realization that _ he’s looking at me— _

It’s hard to describe how it feels, to be noticed like that. He hasn’t felt that seen in a long time, living a lonely life of hardship, the lowest rung of society. He would’ve expected a man like that to look right through him, past him, over him, but his gaze meets his directly, and oddly, it doesn’t pierce into him. It doesn’t wound or subjugate him.

It swirls with curiosity, and maybe a little of the same awe and wonder he’s feeling at such a dazzling sight, the prince of the Golden Land, glittering head to toe and seeing, _ seeing Kagami. _

“Who is this?”

A deep rich voice rings out as Kagami keeps goggling at him. And then he realizes the prince has straightened up. He’s folded his legs and sat forward. And he’s even more surprised to find that he’d understood him perfectly, the words ringing out simple and clear. 

He’s asking about Kagami, still looking right at him, and it’s then that Kagami realizes that having the attention of the prince may not be a good thing— even if it _ feels _ amazingly good, it may just cause more harm to his chances than anything else.

He snaps out of it rather suddenly when he’s hit right in the face, bopped in the nose with a ringed finger. Okay, he knows he has a big nose, but for _ fucksake— _

Grand Vizier Hanamiya addresses the king and not the prince in his answer, who looks irritated at this. They start talking about cutting off his head and Kagami swallows hard and begins to feel scared again, clumsy and shaky.

And _ mad. _

It’s not as if he can even explain that he didn’t do anything wrong. He can’t speak up for himself, he doesn’t have the words— 

And then, he suddenly realizes something else. The palace girl is not just any girl. Kind and graceful, generous and just, she can only be a princess. She interrupts the proceedings boldly with a firm hand and calls Hanamiya’s claims into question. Kagami is surprised by her kindness, and begins to feel hope. Someone has spoken up on his behalf...

Prince Daiki also scorns Hanamiya and what he deems a minor offense, and Kagami has to hold in a yelp when his head is suddenly slammed to the polished floor, his knees buckling beneath him. It hurt, his forehead banging the stone with a crack. The humiliation of having to grovel like a dog makes him bridle and bristle. 

He’s been worthless all his life. He doesn’t want to go out worthless too.

Bent over like this, pins are spilling out of his pants with a vengeance, dropping and tinkling to the floor and rolling all over the place. 

Kagami grit his teeth. _ Ah jeez, this is bad— _   
  
Hesitantly, he sneaks out a hand, thinking Hanamiya’s blathering will serve as a sufficient distraction as he tries to gather and pick up a few. 

You know. Before someone can go and step on them again and get Kagami beheaded _ twice. _

The cold rod on the back of his neck lets up, and he pulls back, reaching out for some more spilled tacks, then feels a hard thud across his back. He’s flung in a whirl, and laid out hard on the floor, breath coughed out of him. _ Fuck— _

The next thing he realizes when his brain stops rattling is… the prince is laughing.

Kagami tries to untangle from Hanamiya, who’s enraged, scolding and berating him. The princess is smiling behind her hand, and Prince Daiki is laughing openly, which should put him at ease, but instead he just stays there frozen, tense and unsure. He has to be in worse trouble than ever after that—

Unable to explain himself, _ it was an accident, _he thinks it best to keep still and quiet, head down in apology. He hears the princess speak with the king in a cajoling tone and hopes and prays that she can intervene on his behalf, but a sudden sly movement catches his eye, drawing it.

Unseen by the rest, he watches as the prince takes off his shoe, his expensive golden shoe, and discreetly snaps it. Snaps it like the stalk of a palm leaf.

“Father,” he says, and everyone’s eyes land on him. There he sits, holding up a broken slipper on his fingertip, letting it dangle there to show the king, and after a beat, Kagami realizes suddenly...

Prince Daiki… he’s done that on purpose. For _ Kagami. _

He’d broken his own shoe for the excuse of needing Kagami’s services, so that he could order Kagami to fix it.

Prince Daiki looks at Hanamiya for a reaction, seeming satisfied to watch him swell with rage, like a brat who’s gotten his way, but then he looks at Kagami again, handing down the shoe, and his face completely changes. 

It becomes warm. His eyes seem soft as he holds his shoe out to him.

Heart thumping, Kagami scrambles forward to take it, and Hanamiya doesn’t dare manhandle him again, leaving him be.

The prince gives Hanamiya a haughty smug look, a smirk of open hostility, and Hanamiya seethes with frustration. Kagami feels a bit like a toy caught in the middle of some tug of war, but at the moment, he’s the prize of the better of the two choices, he’d say. 

Prince Daiki rises, straightening up above him, and Kagami looks up at him. The sun is at his back, and Kagami’s breathless for a moment at the way he gleams and glows. He smiles down at him, eyes twinkling with mischief and amusement, and then he says something to him, something Kagami deciphers as, _ come— fix my shoe— _

Prince Daiki holds an arm out and the princess comes to him from the king’s side as he wanders down the steps and toward a corridor leading out to the right. A servant scurries out and gathers up the prince’s discarded coat and follows behind the two. Kagami looks around, bewildered.

The king says something as well, that he assumes is meant as an order for him. Something to the effect of, _ go with my children and serve them well— _

One of the humongous eunuch guards that had _ escorted him _ into the palace earlier cuts the bonds at his wrists, and Kagami is sent off with the emperor’s children. Mind still a shellshocked whirl, Kagami fumbles, takes a step after them, then remembers himself and bows low at the king’s feet in thanks for his mercy. He swiftly gathers and stuffs tacks in his pockets as he goes, ignoring Hanamiya’s malicious glare on his way past. Whatever the prince has planned for him, he’s sure it’s better than getting stuck with that prick.

Accompanied by the guards, he hurries off after the girl he now knows to be Princess Satsuki, who dances off ahead of them. Kagami stands behind the shoulder of the handsome prince, lingering a few paces back. He’s a tall confident figure that strolls leisurely down the corridor on his own sweet time, one slippered foot, one bare, and Kagami doesn’t know what he feels, what he thinks.

Only that Prince Daiki isn’t what he’d thought he’d be, nothing but a rotten brat who only sees others as there for his own entertainment and pleasure. Perhaps there’s more to him than that.

Kagami follows down the hall to the prince’s quarters, absolutely bewildered. This is so surreal. He wonders what the odds are for an ordinary person like him to go to bed one night, life completely normal, and then in the morning, waking to chaos and ending up in the palace fixing shoes for the crown prince— 

And he has to wonder what’s in store for him now... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > Thanks for sticking with it this far! I know I’ve been kind of heavy on the author’s notes, so sorry about that. Thought I’d give you five chapters to get the story started and give you something to bite into. Also, I know a royalty AU has already been done in the fandom, and fucking brilliantly too, and I assure you, I’m not trying to rip off Kryzanna in any way. In fact I love that story. I hope one day I can emulate the detail, world-building, and the development of side-characters that she does that make Royals an amazing read. 
>> 
>> A few notes— this story changes POV a lot, and will only do so more frequently as the story goes on. I’ve tried my absolute best to make sure transitions between POVs aren’t jarring. So no page breaks, no typed notice of ‘So-And-So POV’ every time it switches, no breaking the flow. It’s just, sometimes the POV changes like multiple times per chapter, so it’s all over the place. Please let me know if this style disturbs the reading flow, I’ve never done a fic with no POV page breaks before.
>> 
>> I tried to make it interesting and romantic and different, because I know this kind of movie parody au has a tendency to turn into a line-by-line rip-off of the movie where the characters have been cut-and-paste into a play by play of the movie script, which is boring to read— because, if that's the case then why not just watch the actual movie instead. That’s not what I was going for, and I hope I was successful in keeping this from getting stale.
>> 
>> Thanks for giving this a chance guys, and letting me do this kind of fun tropey nonsense once in a while. I needed a chance to practice writing comedy, and to write with relatively shorter chapters— Again, I know that AUs set within kids’ movies have a bad rep for being tropey and poorly written, so my sincerest thanks for giving this story a shot. I really appreciate it. Hope you enjoy.


	6. Open for the Royal Polo Ponies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroko attempts to break into the palace with an ingenious disguise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't ask me why they have Japanese names when it's ancient Babylon. I couldn't very well change their names, guys. What would they even be?... Like.... Dakkidh Al-Mine and Tageus Kagaminius...
> 
> actually those sound pretty badass.

Kuroko’s hatched a plan to get into the palace— to get those balls. 

And it’s a brilliant one if he does say so himself.

He’s been watching the gates all day. He figures he can sneak in with a crowd when they next open up the doors. And just to add a little extra layer of disguise, he’s crawled into a trash can with wheels — where he belongs, mind you— and then he waits.

He’ll just roll himself up the moat bridge, inconspicuous as you please, and pass in unnoticed with a group, stealth style.

_ ’Take that, bitches.’ _

He’s rather pleased with his crafty plan. Can’t see a single way it could possibly go wrong. It’s brilliant, I tell you.

Soon enough, he hears the ring of a gong being struck, and the melodious high voices of palace eunuchs announce that the gate will be opened for the king’s ponies, and then he hears the deep grind of the inner mechanism as the lattice is lifted. The huge spiked doors of the palace gate thunder open.

A procession of magnificent polo ponies crosses the drawbridge, well-groomed and thick-muscled, elegant and proud, hooves clopping merrily on the wood of the moat and into the palace courtyard, clattering on the tiles, and at the end of the line of horses, Kuroko peeks his head out from his rubbish cart.

_ ‘Aw yessss—’ _

He zips his head back inside, nestling amongst the garbage, and then peeks his arms out over the sides of the metal can, gripping the wheels and pushing them into motion. His feeble muscles require him to try a few times to get going, but he eventually sends himself blindly rolling, making it up the slope to the drawbridge.

The last horse has just passed through the gates, hooves clatting and clopping, bridles jingling with bells, and then in rolls a metal trash can, seemingly empty but for garbage, going in just past the entrance and the two guards posted on either side. 

The guards glance at it, but do nothing. Hah, it’s working!

However, Kuroko can’t exactly see where he’s going with his head pulled in, and ends up meandering. He rolls back down the slope, the cart wiggling and wobbling back to the middle of the bridge. It falls to a stop when it slows enough that the wheel falls into the rut between two logs, stuck there.

_ Fuck— _

He reaches his arms out and grabs the wheels to get himself going again. With a hefty push, he tries to roll the cart onward, but Kuroko’s dumb. He’s never heard of inertia, and when he tries to move the stationary cart, it indeed moves, but the wheels stay still. All he succeeds in doing is tilting the can forward and dumping himself out with the garbage.

_ FUCK— _

He goes sailing out over the edge of the bridge, straight down into the disgusting murk of the moat below. The splash is actually more of a _ slap— _

The guards silently look at him, look at each other, and then roll their eyes, signaling for the gates to be closed again.

So that didn’t go as planned. Through no fault of his own, obviously. How could he have known he’d ended up in a clearly defective trash can. Yeah! And moats shouldn’t be allowed to be made with logs anyways! Who wants to deal with those kind of potholes! Use boards for godsake! 

Anyway— Kuroko’s not the strongest swimmer. Living in a desert will do that to you, paradisiacal oasis city-state or not.

However, swimming in this _ ‘water’ _ is more like moving through sludge. At first he sticks near the top, staying afloat like a snowshoe on the surface of powder, but then his coat starts to soak it up, and it gets _ heavy._ It gets harder and harder to move as he sinks, but he tries doggy-paddling anyway as his coat soaks in the muck and drags him downwards.

It’s putrid. The stench rising off the surface is fetid, the fumes alone are enough to burn one’s nostril hairs black. It’s absolutely revolting. But that kind of thing has never bothered him. He spits out a mouthful of green-brown water and swims alongside the palace wall, looking for something to grab onto.

The two guards posted at the gate are watching him, as if to see what he’s going to do next. They must know he can’t climb out. The sides of the moat are sloped, too steep to scale. Perhaps there’s a ladder somewhere.

_ Guys, please, you can’t rush genius— oh god, okay, kind of drowning a little— _

He paddles alongside the palace wall, looking for something to grab onto before his stamina fails him. He makes it around the curved bend of a turret that juts out of the palace wall, and once he clears that, he’s out of sight of the guards, but he’s starting to run out of steam already.

And hey, look at that, perfect timing! A large gutter pipe that runs up the outside of the palace wall drains right into the moat below, the spout at the perfect height for him to grab. 

Swimming towards it, Kuroko puts his slimy hands on the rim and holds himself there for a rest. It’s hard to grip with his palms as wet as they are, and it takes him a minute of scrambling, leaving behind green prints on the pipe. At last he gives up holding on and hefts himself up, pulling his elbows in and bending forward, dragging himself up inside of the downspout. Actually… 

Oh, no, yeah, he’ll totally fit inside this thing. 

He tows himself up inside the pipe, his heavy coat resisting being dragged from the sludge. It drains behind him, the discolored runoff trickling down the bottom of the spout and back into the moat below. He stands up within the pipe and starts to wriggle up the inside— not exactly what he’d planned to do outright, but look, he fits, and it’s not like there’s any other clear-cut path out of the moat. Any reasonable person would crawl up in the palace gutter system in his situation, and Kuroko’s all about being reasonable— 

Standing on his tiptoes, he pushes himself off of the bottom of the spout, one sticky foot and grimy hand on one side of the pipe’s interior, and the others braced on the other side. 

One might wonder how on earth he can take it in his stride to dump himself into the palace moat into a disgusting semi-warmed stew of unidentifiable substances and then _ crawl up into the king’s plumbing system like a roach, _one might wonder how anyone but a sewage worker can stand the smell without vomiting on the spot, but Kuroko’s doing fine.

Not like he didn’t smell like shit before already.

In the meantime, most people are _ not _ climbing in the gutters like sewer rats, _ not _ soaking in moat water, and _ not _ acting completely insane. Up in the palace, guards are standing at their posts, servants are doing laundry and wiping floors and cooking and attending the palace ladies. People are getting on with the day with their clean selves, because they have their lives together.

Well— except Kagami. He’s still not quite sure what’s going on exactly.

At the moment, he’s sitting on the floor in the prince’s chambers in front of a magnificent window, gilded in iron and in the shape of an elaborate mandala. And he’s completely fucking bewildered.

He’s tried repeatedly to stop staring around him in amazement like the plebeian he is, but it’s very difficult. It’s all so opulent. Everything is gilded and glittering, the sparkle of decorative gold leaf catching his eye each time it twinkles in the sun.

Prince Daiki’s rooms are filled with fresh flowers and lush plants, hanging from terraces that creep up the walls, overflowing from richly-designed pottery pieces, some of which are nearly as tall as Kagami. The atmosphere is fragrant with spices and incense smoldering in a lotus-shaped burner, and the floor is spilling over with cushions, little tables with priceless knickknacks and golden statuettes stood upon them, plush ottomans, gilded vases, and potted ferns. Beautiful tapestries, ornamental swords, and relief sculptures line the walls. The floor is laid with carpets threaded with gold fibers.

It’s like paradise on earth. Even the air is cool and fragrant. It’s a pleasure just to sit and breathe it.

_ ‘Fuck—’ _ Kagami thinks. _ ‘I wonder if the guy eats fuckin’ gold bricks. Might as well, while he’s at it.’ _

He’s been working diligently, having been brought in and directed to sit on a woven beaded rug. He sits and crosses his legs, and then squirms as little as possible so as not to track any dirt into the carpet. He’d expected to be sent to some kind of servants’ hall to do his work, but has realized with dismay that _no,_ instead of being kept segregated from his betters, he's been invited up into the prince's own rooms.

Kagami’s _ really _uncomfortable. Not because he’s ungrateful, but because he knows he shouldn’t be here. The prince seems pleased with his presence, but the servants and guards keep casting him suspicious looks. Like they’re just waiting for him to make a wrong move. Like they’re expecting him to try and pocket something eventually, as if he’d ever be so foolish.

It’s not just the suspicious guards, either. Kagami feels very uncertain about why he’s been brought here. Look at this fucking room. Prince Daiki’s obviously going to want something in return for such a favor — saving his life, essentially — but what can a guy who has stuff like this possibly ask for from Kagami, who clearly has so little?

Thing is, Kagami’s been here probably twenty minutes already and Prince Daiki has made no such demands. Kagami has been left entirely unmolested and unharassed, allowed to tend to his work in peace.

It’s given him a lot of time to think, and now that he’s sort of back-processed everything that had happened that morning, Kagami is left to try and cope with this very strange situation. He’s in the palace— _ in the prince’s rooms. _Ain’t that something.

He’s not sure what his next move should be, or what’s going to happen to him next, so for the time being, he’s just focusing on what’s been asked of him and works on the broken shoe, and _ man, _Prince Daiki had really snapped it good. 

It’s a little difficult to get into the right headspace for working in such unfamiliar and _intimidating _ surroundings, but Kagami eventually gets into his zone when he sees he’s being left alone and lets his guard down a little. Enough so to get kind of excited about the job he's been given. It’s rare he gets his hands on such fine materials and in another time and place, he’d be bouncing off the walls over such an opportunity, without reservation. This is what he loves doing, after all— 

The prince’s slipper is even more amazing up close, sewn with threads of real gold, tiny jewels sewn into the pointed nokh and all along the instep. The fabric is deep royal blue with detailwork of golden leaf, so soft and flexible. Kagami delicately weaves strings through the tear, raveling them through his fingers.

While he works, the prince and princess occupy another part of the room— the princess chatters, and Prince Daiki hums and listens, cheek idly resting on his knuckles. Kagami supposes they must be brother and sister even if they don’t look very alike, perhaps not from the same wife of the king. Her sweet voice is a pleasant buzz even though he can’t decipher a word of it, putting him more at ease in his surroundings.

At the start, she’d crept right up to him and tried to speak with him and question him, curious and bright-eyed, but Kagami had just gulped and clammed right up, alarmed at her proximity. Fuck, she’s _ really _beautiful— and holy Hesperides, he feels like some kind of pervert, her veil is so sheer he can see straight through it!

_ ‘They can all see I’m not touching her, right—’ _he thinks frantically, leaning back and sweating. Kindness from a princess is any man’s dream, but he doesn’t need to get in any more trouble.

_You are fixing Brother’s shoe—? _is what he gathers from her gentle inquiries. 

“Yes, Satsuki,” Prince Daiki says in his stead, rescuing him with a knowing smile.

Kagami nods many times, weaving a little faster, hurriedly looking down and avoiding her sparkling eyes, large and round like a doe’s. He feels a little hot around the collar.

He’ll give the king one thing. He makes beautiful babies.

Prince Daiki steps away to talk to an attendant, leaving them be for the moment. Of course, they’re not alone, there are guards watching him very _ very _closely as the princess sits at his side and observes him working for a time. He tries to look at ease in her company, tries to look innocent, eyes diligently focused on his work and not straying, but of course they do eventually— because…

Her earring is dangling loose. He’d noticed it before, when they were walking.

She sees him looking and tilts her head, saying something. Kagami tentatively lifts his hand and touches his ear, then points at hers. She blinks, and then seems to realize, reaching up to unclasp it and take it off. She places it in his hand.

Smiling, Kagami nods and holds it up to scrutinize it. He takes out a little screwdriver and fixes it easily, tightening a piece of the clasp that hung loose, and then hands it back.

She chirps in delight, and Prince Daiki smiles with pearly white teeth on his return, gently waving her away from him. Kagami ducks his head when he realizes he must’ve been watching, _ fuck, _but Prince Daiki only hums something to the princess, shooing her off.

_ Let him be— _Kagami guesses, and feels himself deflate with simultaneous disappointment and relief. She was charming company, but the guards are probably itching to castrate him by this time.

_ Come see my flowers I have for you, _ Prince Daiki beckons, and he retreats with the princess, who chatters gleefully, circling a humongous ornamental vase overflowing with exotic blooms of pink and purple. She seems pleased with the gift— 

Prince Daiki settles, seating himself and watching her, having chosen a new mountain of cushions to lounge in. His bare foot is up on a stiff roll pillow, long brown toes on display. An attendant brings them a platter of food to pick off of, piled high with fruit, nuts, cheese and bread, and Princess Satsuki comes to perch next to him and nibble at the snacks.

Kagami looks up, watching them as his hands maintain the complicated tangle of woven threads. Princess Satsuki is chatting away and Prince Daiki hums back, feeding himself grapes and enjoying her company with a mild expression. Mellow and lazy, he has the relaxed attitude and the confidence of a tiger resting idly on a riverbank, tail flicking ever so slowly.

When he next looks up, he can see the prince talking to the attendant who’d brought the plate, and Kagami feels a nervous jolt when he sees him pointing at _ him _, nodding towards him and saying something.

The servant looks very reluctant. Even Princess Satsuki looks unsure, but the prince must have insisted, because the servant hesitantly creeps to Kagami’s side, lips pursed. 

_ ‘Oh—’ _ When he realizes what’s happening he instinctively starts shaking his head no before they can even offer the dish out to him. Bad idea, fuck, bad idea— First lesson in Rome is never accept a gift from the gods and expect your life not to get totally fucked up later.

_ You may have some, _ Prince Daiki cajoles with a frown, his tone coaxing him not to worry, he won’t be in trouble— but Kagami refuses, shaking his head and ducking down. Prince Daiki says something else that Kagami doesn’t understand, probably some reassurance, but Kagami doesn’t respond, going still when his stomach growls loudly, which shuts the prince up for a second. Kagami turns bright red, staring resolutely at the stitching he’s working on. 

That only makes Prince Daiki insist even more, but he eventually relents when he sees he’s just flustering Kagami worse. He seems disappointed, but Kagami just keeps his head down and works, chewing his lip and cursing his empty gut for betraying him. _‘Ugh— fuck— way to make an ass of yourself, Taiga—’ _

They leave him be for a time then, thankfully.

They sit and eat together until they’re satisfied, and then pass the time talking and smoking from a purple hookah, the sweet smell of poppyseed opium wafting towards him. 

Prince Daiki hums sleepily and the princess leaves him, flitting off to arrange some flowers in a vase on the other side of the vast room— which more or less leaves the two of them together.

Kagami has long since decided it’s better to just pretend he can’t see either of them, knowing well enough not to make eye contact with or to mind the business of royals. He’s just got to get through this and then he can go home, hopefully. He doesn’t need to draw any more attention to himself before then, so he resolves to sit quietly and work his best with the few tools he has. 

_ ‘If I were in my workshop—’ _ he can’t help but think— _‘_ _ then I could really impress him.’ _

Fuck, what kind of bullshit thought is that. The kind that’s gonna’ get him thrown straight in the dungeon, that’s what. _Will you pull yourself together? _This isn’t some kind of picnic!

He’s had suspicions that he’d become some kind of chess piece in a political back-and-forth between the vizier and Prince Daiki, who’d likely only rescued him to annoy Lord Hanamiya. The prince is completely at ease with him here in his rooms, but Kagami is painfully aware of the guards’ eyes on him where they stand in the doorways. He shouldn’t be here.

There must be a reason. Something the prince hopes to gain.

Fuck, this is some kind of ploy, isn't it. He's playing the long game with Kagami, sitting over there and waiting for him to crack. Is he trying to fuck with Kagami's head?

He would have expected to be met with the true motives behind this little charade by now, now that they’re not in court or before the king, but so far Prince Aomine has been kind to him in private. He’s sitting comfortably and watching him. He has not been harsh or impatient, leaving Kagami to his work, but Kagami feels on edge all the same. He has so many questions— 

_ Why did you help me? Why have you bothered yourself with me? What can you possibly want from me? _

And why, why has he treated Kagami so kindly— 

Prince Daiki is feeding himself the last of the grapes, hanging them above his face and plucking them off with his teeth. He quietly watches Kagami work and Kagami feels all aflutter under his gaze. It’s not that the prince is scrutinizing him for mistakes or anything, but Kagami still feels flustered by the close attention. No matter how he scolds himself and tells himself to keep his guard up, he can’t help but react to the attentions of someone so… _ so— _

He swallows hard when out of the corner of his eye he sees the prince rise and stretch, then start to pace towards him, slow and measured. 

His pulse picks up, _ oh god, he must have been cursed in a past life— cursed to lose his mind and eyes in the temple, cursed to have his horses killed, whatever that means, and then finally cursed to look a fool in front of an eastern prince who must be a child of Adonis with a body and a face like his— _

Kagami doesn’t dare look up when he comes to a stop at his side, his bare foot resting just next to Kagami’s folded knee. He counts five pristine toenails on five long toes and feels Prince Daiki’s stare on the top of his head. His heart is pounding in his throat. Maybe he’d caught Kagami looking at him and was here to tell him to cut it out. Or he’s finally here to tell him to hurry up with that shoe— 

His heart jumps again when Prince Daiki moves, sitting down beside him on the edge of the rug, having pulled a large pillow up underneath to sit back on, legs folded loosely.

_ I want to watch you— _ he says, or something like it, and Kagami starts blushing like a fool despite himself, fumbling on his work as he seams the two rended pieces of the slipper together.

Prince Daiki’s not at all close enough to be breathing down his neck, a respectable distance of a yard or so away, but he’s paying Kagami such close attention that his entire body starts to warm up. _ Wow, he’s so handsome— _ Kagami’s never been the type to get starstruck or shy, but he can feel his ears and neck glowing like a currant berry.  
  
He… god, he smells so fragrant, like exotic spices and clean linen, and every subtle movement of his breath catches the sun on his sparkling jewelry. Kagami feels like a big idiot, trying hard to control his hands, which have gone stupidly clumsy.

Prince Daiki takes it in turns watching the woven web of strings between Kagami’s hands, and openly staring at Kagami’s face, only causing him to flush worse and bite down hard on the tacks in his teeth. His gaze is so intense that Kagami has to resist the urge to feel self-consciously at his face.

_‘ ... Fuck, is he staring at my nose—?’ _

As if it’s not bad enough, then he tries speaking to him, a deep honeyed voice breaking the silence of the whispering breeze rustling the white curtains and tickling through the flower petals, wafting their gentle aroma. 

Fuck, _ Prince Daiki, _jewel of the east, is trying to start a conversation, and Kagami is regrettably too baffled to seize such an opportunity.

His mind flits about wildly, _ what can he be talking about— _His work? He must be asking about his work. He can only assume so, because he has no idea what he’s said, and Kagami feels too embarrassed to attempt a response, lips buttoned closed in a stilted silence.

Prince Daiki seems confused, but not offended. He says something else, sounding a bit uncertain this time, and Kagami squirms awkwardly. The prince seems slightly discouraged by his refusals, but he doesn’t get angry. He just leans in a bit, paying him even closer attention. He only seems _ more _ enraptured by his silence, looking intensely curious.

_‘Ah, fuck me—’ _Kagami thinks. He’s _ mortified. _Prince Daiki wants to talk to him and he can’t say anything back, this is such bullshit, _ oh gods above, have mercy— _

Prince Daiki, exquisitely brilliant as he is, looks so earnestly interested by him that it only makes Kagami even more aware of how plain, how humble, and how ragged he is by comparison, and he has to wonder what the prince has seen in him that he finds so fascinating.

What has he seen in him that was worth ripping apart a priceless shoe for his sake.

Kagami’s at a loss. He’d expected he’d be an arrogant jerk who cared for nothing but to be waited on and to debauche himself with palace women. Kagami had thought it would come naturally to sit here and stew with resentment, he'd thought it would be easy to hate Prince Daiki as a spoiled palace brat, but admittedly, thus far he’s shown Kagami a kind-hearted hand and such gentleness that it’s actually beginning to infatuate him... Just a little bit.

A loud clanking noise rattles the palace as a big section of gutter piping separates from the turreted wall, hanging down and dangling in view of the great mandala window. 

Princess Satsuki dashes to the window, puzzled as she looks out, but the two young men, hopelessly enamored with each other, they don’t hear a thing.

  
Kuroko, in the meantime, had reached an intersection in the pipes he was crawling through, and as he’d picked the left path, the iron fixtures that kept the piping bolted to the bricks in the palace wall broke away, leaving him dangling out a gutter pipe some fifty yards from the surface of the moat water. He’d kicked wildly, the pipe coming loose under his scrambling feet, careening down and sagging over a window beneath as he squirms upward.

Shit. Well that wasn’t good— someone ought to fix that.

Whatever. Kuroko scuttles further up, because the gutters are calling and he must go. He’s been climbing up for ages now in the confined space. He must almost be at the top by now.

His breath is echoing in the pipes as he huffs and puffs on the mold and grime coating the insides. He works his way up the plumbing system of a turret, which is perfectly lovely on the outside, bricked with white stone and a single window in the shape of a crescent moon, the roof tiled with purple ceramic tile.

Kuroko at last shimmies to the top and pokes his head out through an opening. He's in a tiny chamber blocked off partially with a red curtain. A sash hangs above him, encrusted with jewels. Flies buzz around his head as he cranes his neck. The hole is surrounded by some sort of marble countertop with a cushioned rim.

He looks out into the room beyond, dimmed and dark, and hears giggling.

_ Oh. _

Straddled across a humongous bed is the pink palanquin he saw back in the square, and the curtains are moving.

Kuroko grimaces and looks up, grabs the hanging jeweled sash, and pulls on it hard, flushing himself down the toilet. He rockets through the pipes in a rush of water that spins him in a cyclone, and he’s promptly spat out, _ splash, _ back into the moat.

Fuck— So that didn’t work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is very nearly crack where kuroko's character is concerned, i'm just having some fun. 
> 
> Pretend kuroko got bored being kagami's foil and decided to go buckwild in this story, just enjoy.


	7. Tak? Is That Your Name? Tak?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aomine and Kagami make small talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [satsuki and aomine](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/2c/40/16/2c40160553a4ccf9918fa2610e1c55ed.jpg)
> 
> find the mean girls quote.

Aomine has taken the cobbler to his rooms, and of course— _ of course— _ he can’t get a moment alone with him.

He’s used to it. He doesn’t know if he’s been completely alone even once since he’s been born, actually. Someone’s always supervising and protecting him, standing just at the doorways. And they’re watching him even more closely than usual with the cobbler here. 

Satsuki walks with them, clothes jingling as she chatters away. Aomine strolls on after her, thumbs in the sash at his waist, the bare sole of his foot feeling cold and tender on the marble floor.

“Man, he gives me the creeps. I need to burn some esfand. I swear he’s going to put the evil eye on the lot of us—”

Fiddling with her earring, Satsuki scolds him, “You ought not antagonize Lord Hanamiya that way.” Aomine sucks his teeth and rolls his eyes. “It’s better to get along when we don’t agree,” she urges. “Don’t fight—”

“Don’t defend that bat with legs, Satsuki.”

“A king does not make peace with his friends, he makes peace with his enemies,” she says wisely. 

“He won’t make himself _my_ enemy if he wants to keep his job,” he hums.

She purses her lips, displeased. “Oh no…”

“What does he bring to this palace except sulfur and bad hospitality.” 

“I’m sure he has… qualities,” she insists. “Deep down,” she continues after a long, long pause, which makes Aomine spit a laugh.

“Yeah? Name a redeeming quality of his. Just one, if you can,” he amends generously. 

She thinks for a long time. 

“He’s very…” Aomine waits. “He can do card tricks,” is what she comes up with at long last. 

“Oh yeah, those card tricks, man. I take it back. You’re right, there _ is _ good in everybody.”

“There is!”

“Even Hanamiya, huh?”

“I’m sure there is. Just because we don’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there— _ somewhere.” _

Aomine snorts, a smile on his face and an arch to his brow as he trails his tiny sister, the peak of her crown reaching just past his shoulder. He desperately loves her, so sweet and kind. And so very, very brilliant.

“Ahh, Satsuki,” he sighs. “This is why you should take the crown instead of me. You have a better temperament for ruling.”

"Then learn from my example, my brother." Aomine throws his head back and laughs. Cheeky.

She rounds the bend into the corridor, and he follows, taking his time and calling after her with a mellow smile curling his lip. 

“No need. I’m happy just to decorate your arm—”

He feels sad for her sometimes. Eldest princess of the primary wife, she should rightfully be next to inherit if Aomine were to forfeit his title if not for the rule that only a man can take the empire. A vibrant and brilliant mind, interested in politics, just and compassionate, quick to step in where Aomine lacks, she’s perfect for the job. Their aging father, who needs to rely on Aomine more and more as the years go by, he should be leaning on Satsuki, his responsible, reliable, and faithful daughter.

Aomine may be in line to take over, but he’s joked to Father time and again that he’s just going to hand the empire down to Satsuki anyways, so he may as well give it to her. Father always refuses the idea and blows it off, but Aomine has basically told him something to the effect of— ‘You can’t stop me when you’re dead.’

Father doesn’t like that, but Aomine wasn’t punished. He’s never punished.

He’s come to expect it no matter what he does. His father’s that type of man who believes in spoiling children, not striking them. He’s also the type of man with the traditional idea that the son should be at the helm— and though he’s always loved his precious daughter, spoiled her with trinkets and gifts and decked her in gems, he encourages her not to worry her head about men’s business, and really, they all know her life is relegated to a waiting game.

Wait in the shadows for her father or her brother to choose her a suitable husband. 

She has told Father she would like Aomine to be the one to choose her suitors, and Father has allowed that much, placing the duty with his son. Aomine has willfully neglected that duty, putting it off and pretending to forget. He won't admit such a thing, but the thought of being parted from her rips at his heart with vicious claws.

Satsuki being taken out of the palace as someone’s wife, taken away from his side, that’s bad enough— but if she were treated badly, if she were harmed and he could not prevent it, if she was stifled in a marriage and Aomine was left powerless to stop it, he can’t bear the thought. 

Even if he managed to find her a devoted husband, a kind and gentle one, Aomine knows that Satsuki would only ever be a trophy to be handed over, and he won’t allow that if it’s up to him, to see her married off like chattel.

It doesn’t matter that he may choose personally who she be given to. The way he sees it, no man in the world can even kiss his sister’s foot.

As they’ve gotten older and it’s gone long past time they both should have been married, he’s told her again and again, when I’m king, you need not marry for the sake of duty, you need not become the wife of a stranger to uphold the family honor. When I am king, your honor to me is as my sister. Don’t worry about who will take care of you and where you will go. I will take care of you. Stay and live with me, I will protect you and look after you—

That is one duty he will never abandon.

She chatters away merrily, excitable and sweet as honey, rushing off ahead of them as he mildly hums in response, trailing his dear sister like a faithful dog.

Perhaps if one day he finds a man trustworthy enough to take over his watch, care for her and love her as he would, perhaps then— but of course no such man walks the earth, he's sure of it.

Aomine keeps himself from checking over his shoulder to make sure his cobbler is following, but he hasn’t forgotten him back there. He can hear his steps scuffing the marble floor and Aomine is feeling some of Satsuki’s excitement too, fluttering in his chest like a thousand doves taking flight.

When they reach his rooms, he watches the cobbler shuffle in after them. Aomine holds out an arm to show him where to sit, right by the window, where he thinks there must be an appropriate amount of light suited to working. 

He feels pleased watching him look around, eyes wide with wonder but not with greed. He looks so amazed by everything, in utter awe, admiring the wall hangings and the pottery. Aomine finds himself charmed by how dazzled he looks, sweet brown eyes that admire each possession for its beauty and not for its value.

Aomine rubs his palms on his thighs, drawing himself up and coughing softly. He wants to tell him to be comfortable, wants to treat him well and gain his favor and his trust perhaps— ask him if he’d like a drink of water or some food, but he doesn’t get the chance. The cobbler sits down hurriedly where he told him and starts to pick at his shoe post haste, so Aomine deflates a bit and leaves him be.

Aomine tries to be hospitable and send something to him, overeager to be nice to him, but the cobbler refuses refreshment repeatedly, almost viciously polite in following the etiquette of refusing what’s offered, but Aomine insists so many times that his eventual acceptance wouldn’t be against the customs— and yet he never accepts, so Aomine reluctantly stops badgering him.

He may have had too stressful a day to feel at ease here. Aomine does have to admit that he’s one of the braver ones who’d been brought in for execution. He hadn’t even fallen apart, begging for his life or groveling, instead maintaining a dignified silence despite Hanamiya’s abuses.

He’s fiercely focused on his work, so Aomine leaves him be for a time. Perhaps he’ll speak with him when he has finished. That also gives him a bit of time to think of what to say.

In the meantime, Aomine just watches him and eats some fruit, lounging about on some cushions while the cobbler sits and works in silence.

Satsuki has already cast him a suspicious glance. “Have you really broken a shoe, Daiki? That’s very unlike you…”

“Is it,” Aomine hums, pretending he doesn’t know a thing about his collection of shoes, one of the few things besides his pets that he takes special care of.

“Yes, I think you’re smitten,” she accuses bluntly. “Did you see how he was looking at you before? So sweet—”

“Who’s smitten,” he hisses. She just smiles gleefully, teasing him ruthlessly. “So what if I am— and hush your voice.”

He does think the cobbler seems awfully sweet. But his angry defiant bristling when Hanamiya had yanked him around had really attracted him too.

“Well, what a good time for you to have broken a shoe. One might call it fate—”

“Yes, one might. And _ I _ might call it _ mind your own business, Satsuki,” _ he hums, and she starts giggling. “You hush.”

“If you say so,” she sighs with a smile. Then she raises a finger. “I want to go befriend him.”

“Fine, fine—”

Aomine scopes out a pillow pile to throw himself in and calls an attendant to bring them a snack with lots of fruit. When he looks back, Satsuki has approached the cobbler’s side. 

“That’s amazing. How do you make such beautiful work?” she inquires, along with many other questions, shooting them off rapid-fire. 

The poor guy looks overwhelmed, intimidated even, so Aomine has pity on him, smiling. His sister has that effect on people. “Leave him alone, Satsuki,” he calls.

He watches them while talking to a servant, then trails off and marvels as the cobbler puts his hand out slowly, like he doesn’t dare overstep, and then realizes he’s noticed Satsuki’s broken earring. Aomine’s lips part as she takes it off and puts it in the cobbler’s hand, delicately placing it in his palm. 

Aomine smiles involuntarily, feeling warmed to see him kindly fix Satsuki’s jewelry, and so swiftly too, only fiddling for a moment with a tool before handing it back for her to put in her ear.

“Thank you,” she says. The cobbler nods his head, cheeks warm and glowing.

Dear though she is, Aomine wants to talk to the cobbler on his own, and he can’t have his sister as competition. He sees her off, showing her some flowers he sent away for as a gift to her. Satsuki still seems suspicious about how exactly he broke his shoe, but she’s leaving them be for now, not making herself a nuisance and giving him his opportunity. _Bless you, Satsuki—_

Aomine doesn’t draw close or try to speak to the cobbler at first, merely watching, and quickly becomes absolutely fascinated with him. 

His hands are spread apart in a beautifully elaborate web of golden thread, a cat’s cradle spread between his fingers in an intricate pattern, interwoven into the pieces of his shoe. Sometimes he uses his mouth to pull at a piece, tugging with his teeth when he doesn’t have enough fingers to do the job. It’s an amazingly beautiful show of craftsmanship. 

Aomine watches from a distance for a time, but finds he’s not content with just observing, coming to seat himself at his side. It seems to put him on edge, so Aomine waits a few moments in silence, mind buzzing with anticipation. He wants to ask him about where he comes from, where he lives, how he learned the craft. Can all cobblers do that or is he very talented? And if he is a citizen of the Golden Land, why is he so white? 

He can hear Satsuki now, _ oh my god Daiki, you can't ask people that— _

But his curiosity has his head going a hundred leagues a minute. Aomine has only been taught court skills and what he’ll need to know to rule. How to read and write, speak well, perhaps play a sport here and there and learn to hold a sword, maybe falconry, but mostly he must study to be a just and goodly king. Learning to play an instrument or how to paint, those were pastimes his father had encouraged of Satsuki, but not of his son. Aomine doesn’t know how to make things with his hands that way, and it impresses him greatly.

And what a face— It compels Aomine to want to know him.

He’s not nervous exactly. Growing up a prince, he’s used to everyone liking him, but they were palace people, foreign dignitaries, kiss-ups essentially. This is a worldly person. Someone who knows what real life is like. Aomine’s dying to know all about him and what it’s like out there, dying for this person to return his interest, hoping that compared to the vibrancy and wide open freedom of life out in the world that he doesn’t find Aomine a bore.

He seems so kind and gentle. He’s just fascinating.

Aomine can see the tense set of his shoulders and jaw, the way he keeps his eyes low, and he doesn’t want to intimidate him any further. He doesn’t want to induce any groveling or the unearned praise Aomine always garners simply by being the prince. 

He wants to show his true heart to him, show Daiki to him, the Daiki that few but Satsuki have come to know. He wants to be liked by him, not as the prince, but as himself. He wants to speak with him as he is. Ahh, what should he say—? How can he put him at ease and draw him out of his shell.

“That’s beautiful work,” he notes, complimentary but honest, and the cobbler’s hands slow and then still. He looks up, but when Aomine tries to meet his eyes, he avoids them.

“Why do you use threads on my shoe and not hammer and nails?” Aomine wonders. “I thought I’d completely wrecked it— you can really fix it?”

He tries to speak with him as he would with Satsuki, but he receives no answer. Aomine waits, but the cobbler is silent, not even parting his lips.

"Will it take long? You can take your time…" The tacks in his mouth twitch as he contorts them uneasily, avoiding his eyes.

Aomine feels mildly discouraged, but surprisingly, it doesn't seem like more of the cobbler's defiance. He doesn’t seem willful or stubborn or disobedient, he seems unsure, which makes Aomine’s shoulders lower. _ Maybe he’s shy— _he realizes, and his silence only charms Aomine more, the curiosity building.

_ How sweet you are, _ he thinks, _ and what a cute nose— _

The cobbler squirms apologetically, but doesn’t speak, and Aomine lets it slide, going back to watching in silence. He’s so quiet and modest, working so skillfully, and though he’s dressed simply, clearly very poor, clothes full of patches and holes, underneath such lowly dress, he’s very handsome. Callused hands manipulating and twisting the threads, his eyes are soft and attentive to his delicate work. He seems so gentle like that. Aomine finds he craves a response even more, wishes fervently for him to lift his eyes to his and gaze upon him once more, as he did in the throne room.

When Aomine sits down at his side, the guards in the doorway move to stand inside the doorways instead of outside, watching them closely, not leaving him unattended with a man of the streets. Aomine resents needing a chaperone, because he’s not a princess like Satsuki who needs his virtue protected. Then again, she’s here with them too, so he can pretend the guards are for her.  
  
As he sits and watches, he starts to wonder why the cobbler won’t talk, feeling troubled by it. Why will he not speak to him? Is he intimidated by the guards? Or maybe he’s shy of _ him _— tongue-tied in front of a prince. But when he thinks of his defiant scowl back in the throne room, he thinks perhaps that isn’t it…

Aomine picks at his lower lip, frowning and leaning onto his knee as he ponders. 

Maybe he thinks it best not to say anything at all, lest he offend Aomine somehow. Or perhaps he may even be a mute.

“Cobbler— what’s your name?” Aomine asks, especially slow and gentle, hoping for a response.

The cobbler picks his head up this time at least, acknowledgement that thrills him. His eyes dart to his, warm and fiery. Aomine perks up, lifting his chin from his fist. His face is a pleasing sight, and isn’t it charming the way he holds pins in his teeth— 

His hands are occupied, but his eyes wander helplessly, looking around the room until they land on the wall. At last he nods to a tapestry with his head, a wall-hanging that stretches ceiling to floor. Aomine twists at the waist to look at it. It’s a favorite of his, a fierce tiger with blazing golden eyes and fangs bared woven into the textile.

“... Tiger?” he identifies, bewildered. “Oh!” he realizes, then frowns. “... Wait, that… can’t be your name. Truly?”

‘Tiger’ scrunches his face. Then moves one hand as much as he can without disturbing his net of threads, making a so-so gesture.

“Close?” 

He nods in a more or less manner. “Well I can see the resemblance,” Aomine teases, which makes Tiger purse his lips and hunch his shoulders a bit, as if to sulk. Aomine laughs aloud, sitting forward eagerly. It coaxes a smile out of Tiger too, his lips curving around the tacks in his teeth, cheeks pink, and Aomine’s heart lights up in glee, fluttering and beating warmly.

“Why not write it down?” he suggests, jumping up and striding to his desk. He doesn’t know why his friend does not speak, whether he chooses not to or simply can’t, but he doesn’t begrudge him that. Aomine doesn’t mind putting effort into things he likes— 

He pauses then, having gotten ahead of himself in his excitement. “... Can you—? Read and write?”

Tiger pauses, hands stalling, and Aomine regrets asking, seeing that he’s embarrassed him. He looks a little reluctant then, avoiding his eyes, but he deigns to set down his work, meticulously arranging each thread loop so that he can pick it back up as it was. He hesitantly approaches Aomine at his table, a smooth black walnut study stocked with papyrus sheets and an eagle feather and ink.

Aomine gives him a clean sheet and places the quill in his hand, and then waits. He watches as Tiger stares down at the page, then haltingly lifts his hand to scrawl out a messy childish scribble, chunky and jerky instead of smooth flowing abjad. Actually, Aomine’s not even sure it’s supposed to be abjad. Perhaps he’s just very ham-handed. They’re not any glyphs he recognizes, not cuneiform either.

_'The fuck is that—' _ he wonders, sweat prickling on his neck. '_Shit, he really can’t write, can he.'_

Aomine furrows his brow and tries to make it out, but it’s nonsense. “I… don’t understand,” he admits, baffled. Tiger seems frustrated.

“What is this? Where are you from that you write like this? … So blocky,” Aomine wonders, because Tiger hasn’t put the quill down, fiddling with it like he wants to give it another go.

Tiger hesitates and then tries again, standing back with a tentative hopefulness once he’s done. Aomine leans forward and sees a name spelt out in very clear Latin characters, and below it, again in Phoenician—   
  
  
K A G A M I T A I G A

  
Aomine smiles when he reads it, slowly sounding it out in his head, and then in a flash, _ oh fuck, I get it now— _

“Kagami Tiger, huh,” he teases. “Good one.” 

Kagami huffs a little, and Aomine snickers. Leaning forward once more, he scratches something else onto the page, and Aomine looks at it for a long time, confused, and then recognition comes over him. _ Where are you from that you write so jagged— _  
  


R O M A  
  


“You— You’re from the Republic,” he realizes, charged with excitement, although he quickly fights his face back into something less openly ecstatic.

“Ah yes, I see,” he pretends to muse thoughtfully, when really he’s practically vibrating. _Fuck, be cool. _He’d thought perhaps Macedon, perhaps Alexandria, how had he not guessed. He has the nose and everything. “You must tell me of the city, I’m very interested in Rome.” 

_ And you— _he doesn’t say with his lips, but he’s sure the rest of him says it for him.

Kagami looks overwhelmed, blinking balefully, as though at a loss in the face of his quick chatter. Aomine clears his throat. “Not now though, of course… Another time. You may go.”

He seems to slacken in relief, then gives a shallow bow, awkwardly shuffling back to his work.

Of course, Aomine doesn’t let him be for long, trailing him, helplessly curious. “Tell me, Taiga, how did you come to be on Hanamiya’s bad side?” 

Taiga pauses, seeming baffled, so Aomine repeats himself, which only makes him look sheepish. He shakes his head. Aomine frowns, and Taiga fumbles at the tacks in his mouth, tapping them and then shaking his head some more, as if he thinks _ Prince Daiki _is a little slow and hasn’t caught on to the fact that he’s not a big talker— 

As if that’s going to stop Aomine or something. Especially after Kagami has piqued his interest so. His curiosity hasn’t been satisfied at all, not a bit.

“No need to defend yourself,” he assures, grinning. “I was only curious,” he needles, a coaxing hum, and Kagami’s shoulders ease, but he seems no less flummoxed.

Taking care to speak a little slowlier, Aomine repeats himself about Lord Hanamiya— “I’m sure you did no wrong to that spider. What business had he picking on someone like you. Not that I’m surprised. He’s not exactly known for being the salt of the earth. Although he is generally pretty salty...”

He realizes then that Kagami perhaps had not known Hanamiya’s name, because he suddenly stops looking confused and seems to get it. And Aomine knows he gets it because he makes a gesture at his eyebrows, putting the pads of his fingers there like big fat tadpoles. Oh, he’s funny— 

Aomine laughs aloud and Kagami seems to disarm, relaxing a bit and smiling around the pins. “Yeah, yeah, that’s him. They’re a fucking fright, that’s for sure. I certainly prefer yours...”

Aomine trails off when Kagami holds his hand flat, placing a shoetack on it, and then mimicks a little walking figure with his other hand, poking his finger onto the sharp tip. Then he puffs himself up and scowls, a sarcastic caricature of Hanamiya’s snooty attitude. He shakes his fist, waves his finger.

“That fucking snake,” Aomine broods sourly, because Hanamiya had really gone and had poor Kagami hoisted up and carted off to the castle because he hadn’t watched where he was going.

“I’ll show him a tack to the foot.”

Kagami seems to agree, jabbing his thumb down. Then, very obscenely, he viciously flicks his fingertips off the bottom of his chin. Aomine feels a gleeful smile spread over his cheeks, positively giddy at such a rude display.

His prior shyness was heart-wrenchingly adorable, but the little flashes of defiant spunk he’s shown, it draws him in and fascinates him even further, endears and enamors Aomine to him like moths to the sunset torches in the garden.

“Well, it’s over now,” Aomine promises. Kagami listens intently with an earnestness that’s just precious. “But I’m certainly glad you’ve come—”

He hasn’t known Kagami but for an hour at the most. He’s quiet and simple, not a prideful man, not one such that many would find anything special about him, but as he opens up to Aomine, his initial walls of caution coming down, Aomine sees that his spirit is a brilliant glow. Kagami is clever, kind, and very, very funny— Aomine’s never known anyone like him and he’s thrilled to have met him.

Kagami nods his head, smiling, as though to agree, _ me too, _and Aomine’s breast swells with a fierce affection.

He’s disturbed him enough, so he lapses into silence and lets Kagami work a while, watching with his head on his palm. He seems to have succeeded in ingratiating himself, because Kagami seems warmer towards him. He’s sitting straighter, working energetically, enjoying his company and attention.

Aomine watches for some time, lounging on the floor. Kagami seems to be showing off for him, glancing to him frequently to see that he’s watching, looking thrilled by it. It’s all Aomine can do to stop smiling, sweet and vivacious Kagami, weaving the golden thread with skilled zeal to amuse and impress him. They keep exchanging glances that make his heart soar.

He hears Kagami take a little breath, sees him swallow. The mess of thread in his hand is an organized tangle that creates an intricate web of interlocking loops. When Kagami tugs, they all tighten into a center point. Aomine’s amazed, enraptured, and then suddenly he recognizes an unmistakable heart shape form out of what had seemed like a chaotic knot of strings— a beautiful golden heart which Kagami sets into the tear, bedecking the seam of his shoe, laid there to kiss his instep.

He attaches it and then tentatively looks to Aomine, shoulders hunched, eyes shy and a little hopeful.

Aomine’s lips part, and he feels a flush come to his face.  
  


How sweet— and how bold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aomine: *swoons and fans self*


	8. I Need A Cobbler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Aomine's heart is won.

Aomine is utterly swept off his feet, left breathless.

Kagami’s sweet and wistful look of longing, so daring as to adorn his shoe with a heart and then shyly gaze up at him, waiting— 

Aomine feels heat in his face, a fluttering in his heart, and realizes he can’t speak, unable to find the words, his throat working back and forth with no sound. He’s being… _ flirted _ with.

Fuck, he's completely charmed by Kagami. He's given Aomine such a simple and humble token, but the fact alone that he's dared to attempt such a thing felt so romantic.

Growing up a prince has been easy in many ways, and hard in others. For one thing, he’d largely spent his adolescent years alone. 

Well, not alone. Actual solitude is hard to come by in the palace. Even as a child, hiding from his teachers in the garden, he doesn’t think he ever got out of sight of the guards. What he means is he’s grown up peerless, lacking friends or really anyone to talk to of his own age. And that can get very lonely after a while.

His loneliness may come as a surprise, because he’s known to be a bit of a lech, with a raging libido and a hungry eye for palace dancers. It’s not unreasonable to assume he could find himself some willing company if he really wanted.

Women have been trotted out to him one after the other for years, the palace court is a mess of political squabbles as to who will gain access to give their daughters to the prince as his wives. Foreign dignitaries have been trying to arrange marriages with him and their princesses literally since before he was even _ born, _ so it’s not as if he lacks attention, and it’s certainly not as if he doesn’t have his pick of playmates, but there’s just no romance in it. 

He’s the most eligible bachelor this side of the desert and could have someone on his arm in moments. On merit of being the prince alone, he can order any woman he chooses into his bed, he can call for someone willing to love him and fawn over him, devote their _ life _ to him— but the idea feels vapid and empty, and leaves him feeling even lonelier. Because it’s because he’s _ Prince Daiki, _isn’t it. He’s never going to be loved as anything other than the future king. It fills him with sad, dramatic thoughts that no one can ever understand him, that no one else knows what it’s like, that he’ll never find happiness... 

Maybe it’s partly daddy issues, but despite the attention and praise he’s received indiscriminately all his life, he still finds he most craves that love and approval from his father. Because it’s something he feels in his very soul is real. It _ must _ be real— everyone else, barring Satsuki, they only love him because they have to. Because they want something from him. Because they can use him. And that feeling of isolation is what he can’t bear.

He’s never gained a paramour’s interest on his own merits. From someone who has nothing to gain from him except his true heart. Someone who could see something in him that would still be worth loving, crown or not. If Aomine were an ordinary person, if he had nothing to his name, if he didn’t have anything… to them it wouldn’t matter, because all they want is him as he is. He doesn’t know what it is to be loved like that. Not really.

Aomine’s led a luxurious but secluded life, and as his body’s grown into that of a young man, he still has a boy's heart. He’s a budding adult, and yet his teenage years had been utterly barren of basic intimacy.

Holding hands. Stroking his fingers through the other person’s hair. The warmth of the realization that his crush likes him. The thrill of a first kiss. Wooing a potential partner, trying to figure out how to make them like him. He hasn’t experienced young love or any of those thrills, and all at once he realizes what he’s missed when his heart starts to flip and leap with excitement and nervous joy. He feels all at once electrified and at a complete loss. _ Fuck, what should he say— say something back—_

Aomine's used to being wanted without trying. He’s used to being loved for no real reason. He's used to receiving proposals of sorts by strangers. And he’s used to feeling nothing but boredom and resentment over that fact. But this is not like the other times.

Kagami’s hesitant smile, innocent in a way, as if he doesn't want anything of him but to show him his feelings. It makes Aomine’s heart flutter, it feels amazing, _ exhilarating. _ This must be the first time this has happened, the first time he’s been shown such a sweet, heartfelt gesture, because Aomine’s sure he would have remembered how this feels. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t think he can speak. He's just so overcome with a desire to reciprocate but doesn't know how. What he does know is that he's totally _caught the bug, _so to speak, suddenly understands what it means to want so much to give all your attention and care to another person, strive to please them— 

It's no use. Kagami's graced his shoe with a beautiful design, a earnestly sweet sentiment, and Prince Daiki's lonely, silly heart is won.

Aomine's so swept up he can't do much other than sit there and watch him complete the job, heart thumping warmly. Once Kagami is finished with his work, Aomine can’t even spy the seam of the tear. It’s as if it was whole all along, so skillfully and so delicately mended. Perhaps it’s even better than before, even more beautiful for the detailwork he added. A heart design woven in, a token of love he cannot speak aloud—

_ ‘Fuck, tell me I’m not reading too much into this…’ _

He’s hardly thought it before Kagami holds out the finished shoe to him on flat palms, head ducked down in a customary show of respect, but after a moment he peeks up at him. He holds the shoe and the heart out for him to accept, waiting. Aomine pauses for a beat, breath still fluttering in his throat.

He hesitates, and then unfolds his legs and offers his foot out, to see if maybe— 

Kagami lifts his head questioningly, then blinks, face going slack in amazement, and Aomine knows then that he has not been mistaken. Kagami gazes into his eyes for a moment with dawning realization, ears flushing bright red. Then he sweeps his leg under him hurriedly, resting on bended knee to lift Aomine’s ankle from the pillow.

He cradles his foot in his hand, warm and gentle, and slips his shoe on for him. His fingers are calloused and scratchy, a pleasant tickling feeling that warms Aomine from inside out and makes his heart pound. Kagami cups the cloth sole for a little longer than necessary as he tugs the slipper up onto his heel.

He looks up to Aomine, and they make eye contact for a long moment. _Fuck— _Aomine’s heart sings, chest ringing with a heavy shuddering sigh. Kagami’s hand lingers, and then falls away. He’s caught in his tender gaze. 

“Perfect,” he murmurs, and Kagami blinks, shaking himself.

“It fits perfectly,” Aomine amends. Kagami seems pleased, straightening slightly. 

He looks heartened, cheeks flushing with hope. Fuck, he’s precious. He’s got some impressive courage to flirt with him so boldly— _'And yet you still have the nerve to marvel when you actually succeed? Who gave you permission to be so sweet—' _

Aomine wonders how richly he can get away with rewarding Kagami for his services— five chests of gold, five of silver? Is that a bit excessive?

“Thank you, Kagami,” he says, hand on his chest, gratitude he can only express and cannot repay with all the treasure in the palace.

Kagami fumbles a bit and nods his head to Aomine. And then they sit there and smile like silly fools, bathe in a reciprocal affectionate glow, an unending reel of— _ ahh, I like him, I think he likes me— _

Aomine’s absolutely elated. Life is fucking fantastic, isn't it. What a wonderful boy to have been brought straight to his doorstep.

“Wonderful job, Cobbler!” Satsuki chirps, popping up. Aomine clears his throat sharply, straightening and looking away. Kagami similarly jumps out of his skin, fumbling and slapping at the carpet for something to fiddle with. Aomine hides a grin behind his fist, and when Kagami sees, he scowls, which just makes him laugh more.

“His name is Kagami, Satsuki,” he tells her.

“Kagami! It’s even more amazing than before!” she trills, marveling over his shoe until she notices the heart and gasps. Aomine promptly pulls his foot in with a scowl— _ get your own. _

She gives an excited squeal, which Aomine quickly hushes. Kagami’s the one to grin then. “Not one more word,” Aomine grumbles, but it goes ignored as Satsuki jumps in and gushes at Kagami, who smiles, head ducked and cheeks rosey as she rattles off that she wants to commission some slippers from him too.

Aomine suddenly latches onto that thought like a flame bursting to life in his brain. That’s not a bad idea. Father won’t think a thing about Aomine keeping Kagami on to make shoes for him personally. What a great idea— 

He’s feeling warm with happiness, thinking of them all spending many afternoons in such a way, sitting together in his room while Kagami sews. Kagami can make Satsuki slippers, and some more for Aomine's wardrobe, and some little baby ones for the new little princess— and Aomine can teach Kagami to play shatranj, show him his pet falcons, take him in the garden and walk with him by the fountain...

“Kagami, can you make lady’s shoes too? Do I have the right kind of feet that you can whip me up something, do you think?” Satsuki goes on.

Kagami’s nodding along thoughtfully, although if Aomine looks at his face, nobody’s home. He’s listening politely but he looks like he doesn’t understand a single word either of them are saying— he does seem very interested in her tiny pink slipper when she holds it out though. Fuck, that’s adorable.

“My favorite is pink silk. What do you think of pink silk?” Kagami wordlessly crouches to take a look at her shoe up closer, holding a measuring tape out to the side of her foot, although he refrains from touching her. He seems to like her dainty little feet. Aomine smiles uncontrollably. 

“I suppose I shouldn’t ask for a heart on my shoe too,” she teases. “Daiki prefers not to share—”

“Satsuki, will you hush,” Aomine demands, groaning. 

She laughs, pleased to have annoyed him, and insinuates that the sisters would find this development very interesting. Aomine scowls, but decides to let her have it. A smirk comes to his face.

“Anyway, what does that even mean, the right kind of feet,” he teases, tugging a tassel on her robe. “Do you have webbed toes or something?”

“Well I don’t know anything about shoes, what if lady’s shoes are different? And don’t even pretend you wouldn’t be jealous if I _ did _have frog feet—” she retorts.

“They're no use to me, I’d ruin my new shoe trying to swim,” Aomine hums with a smirk.

“Oh!” Satsuki huffs. “You go away, Daiki, you’re bothering me.”

“But it’s so much fun—”

She just ignores him after that, nose in the air, which makes him grin wide. “Kagami, can you make me some flowers on mine? I like flowers— can you do one like this?” Satsuki points to a magnolia bloom and Kagami nods, looking eager. Aomine sits back and watches, an easy smile on his face as Satsuki leads Kagami around, as cheerful as always to have company.

“My prince,” an attendant reminds him, a gentle murmur at his ear which has him sighing. 

Satsuki gets ushered off by their nurse, sent into the harem to take a bath. “And you, Daiki,” she says as sternly as she can.

“Yes, yes,” he hums, and gets up to follow her, but Satsuki shoos him out of the corridor. He smirks, strolling off towards his own hallway and drawling, “Rats, I’ve been caught—”

"Caught— you're not sneaky, Daiki!" 

He gets caught trying to wander in there with her to laze around almost daily, but he’s inevitably chased out by maids. He’s got no business going in the women’s quarters, their private space to unveil and congregate in the day, gossip and eat meals and dress and read and pray. No men are allowed in unless they’ve had their nads cut and the prince is no exception. Even Father isn’t supposed to go in there, instead meant to send for women to visit his rooms.

Aomine misses the days of his youth when he’d sit in his mother’s lap, toddle around while all his aunties talked and laughed and brushed hair and weaved and smoked. A cheerful and warm place to be. After Mother died, he could feel them grow cold towards him, isolating him, and as he’d gotten older, he’d been banished entirely— as would have been inevitable anyways.

The last time he’d snuck down there to admire a new baby or two, eventually he’d amassed quite a gaggle of his siblings who came to listen and sit in an eager circle when they heard him telling the story of Gilgamesh to the eighth and ninth sons. 

An auntie, Father’s senior concubine, came and caught him at it, and made as if she would whap him with her paper fan, sending him out— and all his little sisters and brothers wept and wailed, pulling at his ankles as he grinned and told them _ maybe next time— _

The aunties tolerate but dislike him, because he is favored by the king over their own children. Now that he’s older and not as cute, no longer the darling baby of the palace, they don’t hide their scorn as well, glaring and whispering when he comes to play with his many, many siblings in the courtyard and in the gardens, brings them presents and entertains them and lets them crawl all over him. The aunties have to be civil to a degree to keep up appearances, but he knows that even Mother’s death had not killed their jealousy.

It's an awareness that came as he aged, and something he cannot unlearn once he'd realized it was that his age gap with his little brothers and sisters may not have come only from Father's grief, but a king’s shrewd plan to ensure that the empire was passed to him, his favored first son.

Aomine knows that when the emperor dies, it’s not uncommon for infighting to occur, for the many many sons to kill each other in a fight for the title. Their brotherly bonds are weak because they have different mothers, each raised with the unique influences and political struggles of their mother’s family. Father has planned things such that Aomine’s siblings will be young when he takes the throne, and will not pose a threat to him.

To be seen as a sensible king, he’d be expected to kill them— _ all of them— _to prevent them from growing up to challenge him one day. And to prevent them from trying to kill his own sons, once he has them.

Such an idea sounds horrendous to him, and he doesn’t think for a moment that he'll be able to carry out such a deed, even by proxy, but maybe that’s just another thing that separates Aomine and all the mighty kings of the past. He just doesn’t have what it takes.

It’s a dark thought, one he doesn’t like to ponder.

After all, Father doesn’t have any brothers.

Sometimes— sometimes Aomine thinks of Satsuki and all his aunties and sisters and brothers down in the harem, and he feels resentment, everyone he loves in the world gathered there, and here he is alone on the outside, set apart. 

Maybe that’s what it is to be a king. Letting go of the memories of a little boy and turning his back so he can grow up, letting go of what his idea of family is, sloughing off past sentiments, and any tenderness in his heart. All of this so that he can be mighty and rule with an iron fist.

It’s an incredibly lonely prospect.

He’s found himself wishing and praying for a friend or a companion more and more as the years go by. Satsuki, dear as she is to him, sometimes she just doesn’t understand his troubles. There’s an ache inside of him she can’t heal. A wound that opened up a long time ago that he doesn't know how to fill. He doesn't know what exactly went missing or if he can even get it back.

Maybe that’s what a wife is for. Someone to serve as his confidante, someone he can share his heart with and show his weaknesses and worries to, because god knows he can’t show them to anyone else. That’s the life of a king. That’s what Father’s example has shown him. Cast not a tender eye upon the world, love naught but one’s children and wives, for those are a man’s treasures.

Aomine supposes one day he’ll need to marry, need to stop playing this game with Hanamiya and grow up at long last— and if not that, he’ll at least need to choose a woman to bear him a child, but he’s having too much fun for now, goofing off and dragging it out. 

And well— 

He looks back at Kagami before he goes off to bathe, and lets that sweet feeling swell in his chest once more.

Maybe there’s still some charms the world has to offer him before taking the crown on his head— maybe his dearest wish will be granted after all, and fate will send him his treasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just propose already you sad lonely fool.


	9. Oh! Beautiful! Princess! Yum Yum!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kagami receives a summons.

_ What the fuck did I just do— Jupiter’s asscheeks, what the fuck did I just do— _

Kagami can’t believe he’d been so bold to dare do such a thing. That’s probably the ballsiest thing he’s ever done. 

Before he can chicken out, he threads a heart together and places it onto the prince’s slipper, a token so brazen that it can’t be mistaken even across their language barrier, and then, pulse beating hard, he glances up tentatively— _ does he like it? — _only to feel his heart leap when he finds Prince Daiki gazing at him speechlessly, lips parted.

Not long before, he’d found himself fiercely begging any god that would listen for Prince Daiki to just stop talking, _ please _ just shut up, _ he can’t understand shit he’s saying to him— _and it’s really awful because Prince Daiki just keeps trying anyway despite his silence and won’t let up. It’s really embarrassing because Kagami can’t answer him and the prince clearly hasn’t realized that, so he has to just sit there like a lump while Prince Daiki persists.

He’s sure a lot of people would kill to be in his position. The prince of the golden city, the _incredibly handsome prince,_ is interested by him and wants to talk with him and yet he can’t say a thing. It’s agony, honestly. 

Kagami keeps expecting Prince Daiki to get frustrated the longer he doesn’t get any reply, expects him to get offended at being ignored, or even to give up out of boredom maybe, but Kagami’s silence just seems to make him more determined, gods be damned. He cajoles him with a crooked smile and a mellow coaxing tone, like he thinks Kagami is only shy and needs to be convinced that it’s okay, he’s nice, don't worry— 

Eventually he seems to catch on that Kagami can’t talk, thank fuck, but instead of dropping the subject, he patiently tries to accommodate him by speaking more slowly. He doesn’t seem to mind the effort, eyes sparkling as Kagami finally attempts to respond, managing to communicate his name. He’s urged to write it, at least that’s what he assumes when Prince Daiki eagerly brings him to a piece of paper, and he carefully prints it— 

He seems so excited. Kagami feels confused, and just can’t understand for the life of him why he’s putting in so much effort. Usually people give up with him after the first few awkward seconds of forced interaction, his silent gestures getting him nowhere. Prince Daiki doesn’t look bothered at all.

_ Tiger— _he teases, simple enough for even Kagami to understand, and he can’t help but feel warmed from the inside out. 

It’s a pitiful, vulnerable moment. Kagami’s lived in the heart of the city for years, surrounded by people and yet left utterly isolated, and it’s been such a long time that he’d almost forgotten what it was to connect with another person, and that’s what Prince Daiki is trying to do, taking special time just for him.

What few defenses Kagami has still managed to keep up till now start to come down, and once he thinks he half-understands one of the prince’s questions— _ about Hanamiya, _ he’s pretty sure— he slowly opens up.

Kagami feels absolutely stupid at first, hesitant to _ ‘talk’_, but Prince Daiki looks thrilled, very attentive to his oafish game of charades, and Kagami gains some confidence, joking back the best he can, miming Hanamiya’s fat eyebrows, which makes Prince Daiki start to laugh. Kagami smiles, heart leaping. _I've made him laugh_— The prince hums and teases him in his deep smooth voice, eyes sparkling with fondness, and by then, Kagami’s positive he’s being flirted with.

He sits with Kagami, laughing and smiling, and Kagami can’t help but feel a little proud. Of all the people in the world, all the better, smarter, richer, more interesting company the prince might choose to pass his time with, he prefers Kagami, completely focused on him. He’s being so friendly with him, he really seems to like him. And Kagami’s starting to like him too—

He isn’t just dangerously attractive— well he is, but not _ only _ that. When he drops his aloof, _ I’m about to fall asleep _ attitude, he has this youthful boyish charm to him that Kagami eats up. He’s dark and sarcastic, but there’s something sweet about him, something genuine and compassionate, and it sweeps Kagami up, captures his heart.

So much so that he feels a burst of sheer dumb bravery. It’s not that he’ll ever have another chance like this, so there’s no use holding himself back. It’s foolish, it’s reckless, and he expects to be rebuked for overstepping, expects scorn, but at least he'll have done it, by god.

The rebukes don't come. When Kagami dares to take a peek, Prince Daiki looks absolutely _ breathless, _ like Kagami’s just granted all his hopes and dreams, and he feels a sudden helpless fluttering inside him, a rising hope that _ maybe— _

And then, holy gods, Prince Daiki lets him put the shoe on his foot for him, holds his gaze while he does it. 

“Thank you, Kagami,” Prince Daiki hums, slow enough that he understands. Kagami smiles, and they sit there and squirm and glow until Princess Satsuki comes and snaps them out of it.

Kagami doesn’t know what to do with himself after that. He’s finished with his work, after all. For a time, he sits in quiet content as the two siblings chatter back and forth and the princess admires the completed shoe— and he assumes she wants one too, because she’s showing him her shoes… Woah, _ is that golden brocade on the side-seam? _

Soon the prince and princess are beckoned away by an older motherly maid who the prince surprisingly obeys, rising and stretching as he trails after them.

They swat at him and shoo him, squawking indignantly. Prince Daiki smirks and snickers, going back out, and Kagami realizes with a lurch… was he about to sneak down there to peep? His shoulders promptly sink at the sight of that stupid lascivious leer from before.

_ ‘Oh… but I thought—’ _

Kagami suddenly feels embarrassed and annoyed, and manages him to snap himself out of that stupid lovey haze from before. He'd gotten ahead of himself. It was silly to make so much of all this and start thinking it actually meant anything. Of course it doesn't.

Prince Daiki had seemed so thrilled when he’d made him that heart that for a minute Kagami had started thinking that it meant the prince liked him or something. The eager glint in his eye, his body language, the way he spoke to Kagami and watched him like he’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen, Kagami sees now that he’d misread that for something it wasn’t.

And the worst thing, when Prince Daiki had let him put his shoe on for him, he'd felt so happy. Lovingly cupping his soft foot, Kagami had cast him a look of longing, heart swelling with elation as the prince held eye contact, lips parted— to Kagami that had felt very intimate, holding his foot between his palms. It had seemed so meaningful. That shoe, adorned with his heart, when Prince Daiki held out his foot for him and allowed him to touch him and put the slipper on, Kagami had felt as though the prince was, in a way, _accepting his heart—_

Fuck, he's so naive. He's being played with. It's a painful realization. He wonders if this is how Icarus felt, his joy swelling within him and then dropping away as he began to sink, and then suddenly plummet.

Because Kagami remembers where he is, and who he’s with. Sure, the prince might like him, but in a very different way than Kagami had been thinking. This is a game, and he is an amusement.

An amusement for a very spoiled boy who’s used to getting and having anything and anyone he wants. Kagami has no interest in being jacked around and discarded when Prince Daiki’s gotten his and Kagami holds no more charm for him. He will throw Kagami away for a _ new one _ in a moment, and it’s no use thinking that he won’t do exactly that.

Kagami’s left feeling indignant and disgruntled— because he may be poor and never had much in his life, but he has human worth, doesn’t Prince Daiki know that? And though he wouldn't admit it, he's a little bit hurt. He'd really started to believe it...

_ Fuck, _ he’s such an idiot. How had he fallen for that bullshit so easily. It’s not like him to be a sucker for a pretty face. He must really be getting lonely to have been that gullible.

Before wandering to his bath, Prince Daiki makes one more round back towards him, but Kagami doesn’t perk up, sitting there in a resentful slump even when he bends at the waist to speak to him, glittering in the sun like a bright jewel.

_ ‘Don’t smile at me, you dog,’ _ Kagami thinks, supremly butthurt. _‘Don't come over here and sparkle at me. If I could talk I’d cuss you out, prince or not.’ _

But it's no good. Prince Daiki's smile is no less charming, his smell and his voice still make his pulse quake, but Kagami looks away, wishing it were possible to give him the silent treatment, but damnedly, Prince Daiki’s not going to know the difference between the silent treatment and… _ regular _ Kagami, will he. Fuck.

He’ll turn and face the other way, how about that. Snub him and make him feel worthless too—_ rich jerk. _

Prince Daiki must overlook his scowling. He seems to be in a good mood, his lazy voice having turned into something undisguisedly upbeat, almost chirpy. Kagami can’t match his enthusiasm, feeling wounded and wronged no matter how handsome he looks when he’s happy.

“Wait for me here, Kagami,” Prince Aomine tells him. “Pray and eat with me, won’t you—?”

Sulking, Kagami reluctantly nods, as that had all been simple enough that he’d gotten the gist. Not that that means he knows what he’s getting into. He’s sure it’s unwise to stay, but he _ isn’t _ sure he’s free to refuse without causing offense. 

“We can talk about things.” He seems so eager, leaning closer and thrumming on his toes. The smooth, aloof persona Kagami had taken in upon first seeing him in the throne room, that’s completely gone. 

“Well, you don’t have to talk—” Prince Aomine teases, showing his pearly smile, and Kagami feels himself weaken further and further. He keeps his lip pushed out and his brow furrowed, but he deigns to turn back towards him with a distrustful eye. “You know what I mean.”

He says he wants to get to know one another, or something along those lines. Kagami thinks he can’t possibly mean that, not in any real way. But he sounds so sincere that he’s just left feeling vaguely flummoxed.

Prince Daiki goes silent for a moment, as one does in conversation when waiting for the other person to reply, but of course Kagami says nothing, and after a beat, he seems to consider, and then comes out with what Kagami thinks is, '_I will show you my pets after the midday meal—'_

Kagami blanches. His _ pets? _

He imagines snakes. He imagines lions. _ Crocodiles and sharks. _

This is it, isn't it. Is he being detained? Held for interrogation? Is this when the prince finally drops his friendly guise of hospitality and Kagami’s punished for... for the tack incident?! Or just as some sick twisted entertainment?

If not, if his intentions in keeping Kagami in the palace longer aren’t nefarious, then what on Terra’s green earth does he _ want _ from Kagami. If he’s been genuine this whole time, then he’s essentially treated Kagami as some sort of guest. He doesn’t seem at all eager to send him away, and is about to leave him in his private rooms to wait for him. 

And why. To spend time with him? A basic stranger who'd almost fallen for that love at first sight crap? There has to be more.

Perhaps when he returns from his bath, _ that _ is when he will at last reveal his true intentions.

This is where the other shoe drops— so to speak.

_ ‘Ahh yes, that must be it— he’s just been drawing it out.’ _ Kagami begins to feel suspicious and resentful again, starting to feel more and more sure that that’s the case. That makes much more sense than whatever he’d thought before, that Prince Daiki was actually trying to befriend him or flirt with him.

No matter how kind he’d acted, _princes _don’t treat others kindly without expecting something in return, and Kagami knows that his generosity until now will come with a price. He’d charmed Kagami, tricked him into lowering his guard, that’s all. He won’t make that mistake again.

Prince Daiki straightens up, satisfied with Kagami's quiet nod, and then makes to head off for his bath, down the hall to his own pool this time. He repeats once more that he’ll be back soon, _wait for me please— _

He casts Kagami a lingering look. It’s all over his face that he’d prefer to stay in Kagami’s company, but after a moment, he turns to go.

Kagami’s shoulders slump with an unhappy sigh, and he lifts a hand to his face. _ Fuck._  
  


A gong sounds, a long vibrating ring, and his head snaps up.  


Prince Daiki has stopped in the doorway as two tall eunuch guards armed with scimitars come down the passageway and halt in front of him. He glances back at Kagami with a frown and moves a pace to the side, moving in front of them to prevent them coming any further.

Kagami's on the far side of the room, some distance between him and the guards, and it takes him a moment to realize Prince Daiki had actually bothered to stubbornly place himself in their path anyways, just it case that path should lead to Kagami. 

He’s just about to go into cardiac arrest over that observation when the eunuchs open their mouths and announce, _ “O beautiful Princess Satsuki—!” _

“She’s in the bath,” Prince Daiki interrupts flatly.

_ “Glorious Prince Daiki—!” _

_ ‘Fuck, do they sing everything,’ _Kagami wonders in baffled amazement.

_ “The great Lord Hanamiya sends his greetings—! And bids you return—! The cobbler!” _they sing out to Prince Daiki, who stands there looking extremely irritated, eyes narrowed to slits and screwing a finger around in his ear.

Kagami’s ears perk, stomach clenching hard and his fists screwing up in his pant legs. Hanamiya’s going to take him back? Are they talking about him? Did he hear that right?

Prince Daiki’s brow furrows at that, and he turns to look over his shoulder at Kagami for a fleeting moment, looking very unhappy.

“Not yet!” he bursts, childishly dismayed, and then with a more authoritative indignance, says, "I haven't dismissed him.”

They argue for a time, the guards continuing to insist, and Aomine starts raising his voice, scolding and snapping when he’s not pleased with their response. Kagami slumps, his cheek on his hand, feeling glum and worried. To be handed back over to Hanamiya… If they try to take him, he’ll just have to make a run for it. This time there’s no use hoping for some grace from the king, he’ll be entirely at Hanamiya’s mercy. He can’t let that happen, running away is his only chance. Shit, he’ll just get lost in the palace. How’s he going to get back out through those huge gates?

As Kagami watches Aomine bicker with the guards, it’s all too quick for him to catch, but he’s clearly indignant on his behalf— or perhaps not for _ Kagami’s _sake exactly, but is instead selfishly annoyed that he’s been personally bothered by Hanamiya again. 

Kagami can’t understand them, but Aomine has displeasure all over his spoiled princely face, and when the conversation seems to be going nowhere, he discreetly sweeps his foot behind his other leg, hidden by the loose fabric of his silk pants, and he flexes his foot hard, bending the toe of his shoe against the floor.

“You can’t take him. He’s not finished yet.” 

The threads fray and tear under the force, the delicate sole snapping apart.

Prince Daiki kicks his shoe off and holds it up, and Kagami’s stomach promptly drops. It’s… it’s broken. “Look, it broke apart again.” He turns and gives Kagami a piercing look, brow raised, mouth a cold sneer. “Get back to it— Try harder this time.”

Kagami stares, feeling sick, heart pounding in his ears. He doesn’t understand. It couldn’t have broken. It’s not possible. He’d sewn it perfectly.

Aomine holds it out, and Kagami blinks, then jolts and jumps to his feet, hurrying to come and take it. He swallows hard when he stumbles up to Aomine, head down, feeling a knot in his throat. He glares at the floor, gritting his teeth. The rich fuck probably did it on purpose to humiliate him and then pretends it's his fault— _piece of shit. _

Aomine puts the shoe into Kagami’s hand, and when Kagami takes it, Aomine puts his other hand atop Kagami’s, clasping it between his, held in his grasp around his shoe. His hand is so soft, uncalloused and unscarred, and his grip is tender. 

Kagami looks at the shoe, glare softening. He feels his heart still, eyes wide with wonderment as he realizes…

It wasn't his shoddy workmanship. It’s not the same shoe.

There’s no heart. The instep is shredded but bare. It's the other one. Prince Daiki, he… he _did_ do it on purpose. _W__hy?__  
_

He’s lying. He’s pretending that Kagami fucked up and needs to redo it, he’s lied up an excuse and broken his shoe again so that Kagami can stay here and work, and he’d even taken care not to snap that golden heart Kagami had woven onto the first shoe— _w__hy, why, why? _

Kagami doesn’t understand. He’s just an arrogant jerk, he’s just another rich boy who doesn’t know what it is to suffer, doesn’t know anything but how to order others around so that he can get his way, only knows how to use people— and yet again and again, he’s shown Kagami kindness. He’s helped him.

Why. What can he hope to gain. Kagami has nothing in this world but the clothes on his back and his crafting skills. What could Prince Daiki want from a person like him, someone with nothing to give. What does he want. Why is he trying so hard to keep him around.

The guards exit, bowing and backing out, leaving them in peace. Kagami’s not sure Prince Daiki even notices, because he’s still looking into Kagami’s face and holding his hand.

Prince Daiki smiles, expression softening, still clasping his hand in his so gently, cupping them around the torn shoe.

“They won’t disturb you now,” he murmurs, eyes soft and glowing.

Aomine lets go, reluctant in letting his fingers slip away. Kagami can still feel the ghost of where they’d lain, a warm imprint on his hand. Gazing into the prince’s face, he tries to make out what this quiet tenderness can mean. Gosh, he’s so close— 

“I’ll be back soon,” he promises, taking a step back. 

Kagami feels his heart thumping, spreading warmth through his whole body. He squeezes the pieces of the shoe and pulls them in, clutching them and staring at him, feeling hope start to creep back in through the cracks. Fuck, he can’t help it.

“Ah, don’t look at me like that.” Amazingly, Prince Daiki seems a little flustered, scuffing his foot and rubbing his hair. “I had to make sure they match, hadn’t I—?”

Kagami blinks, jaw slack.

Smiling, he takes off the other slipper, standing barefoot on the carpet and handing him the shoe he’d already adorned with the threaded heart. 

“Make sure to put a heart on this one too, okay?” 

Kagami’s heart flutters, but for the life of him he can only keep standing there and gape at him. Aomine smiles. It crinkles the corners of his eyes. “I’ll hurry back— wait for me, Taiga.”

He steps away, padding off down the corridor with a parting smile, and Kagami, stunned, just stands there and watches him go for a few moments, then staggers back to the window in a daze. It takes him a minute to realize what’s happened.

He’s received an answer to his feelings. 

Perhaps… perhaps he’d been too hasty in judging him a heartless cad. Maybe, just maybe it isn’t all some trick.

Perhaps his kindness to Kagami, this confusing behavior that seems to have no motive other than a genuine interest in Kagami himself, a desire that Kagami stay and talk with him more, perhaps the prince isn't tormenting him by way of some complicated mind game— perhaps... this is a genuine reciprocation of affection.

Kagami sits there and holds the shoes in his lap, looking down at them, rubs his thumb over the woven heart, and feels so warm in the face that little puffs of steam might well be rising above his head.

_ ‘Ah— Cupid has smote me this day. With the arrows and the goddamn torch both.’ _

The guards sent to cart Kagami away retreat down the corridor, down stairwells and through hallways, in a long and laborious return-to-sender.

Waiting tetchily in the cave of a room down in the bowels of the palace that he roosts in while within the castle walls, Hanamiya Makoto throws himself down in a plush armchair in front of a painting of a pyramid and a monstrous sphinx that looks to be shrieking in pain. His courtiers— _ minions, more like— _rush in after him as he kicks off his shoes. 

“Hara, Furuhashi, Seto, Yamazaki— _ Matsumoto!” _ he calls, irritated. “Bandages!” he demands. He requires bandages for his vicious puncture wounds, nay, the _ stab _ wounds of that worthless rotten cobbler.

“Yes boss, right away—” They flurry around him, competing to attend him with bandages, ointments, and a goblet of wine that sloshes about. “Your wish is my command, my lord, my divinity,” Hara drones sarcastically. 

“Hey, budge up, I can’t reach—”

“That’s some wicked bee sting, boss.” 

“Seto, quit being a smartass!”

Hanamiya rolls his eyes at their ridiculous squabbling, but felt a measure of smug satisfaction. 

There’s nothing he hates worse than to be humiliated. Plans falling through might be a close second. Their mad scramble soothes his bruised ego somewhat. Besides— all in good time, things will start going his way. His patience will certainly pay off. 

All he needs is to sit and wait and the fly will snare itself in his carefully strung web all on its own.

The gong sounds with a rattling clang and the guards appear in the doorway. Hanamiya perks up, sitting himself taller.

“And what did the princess say?” he inquires, nearly sounding eager.

They report, _ “Prince Daiki—! Refused—! To return— The cobbler!” _

When he hears this, Hanamiya swells up, boiling mad. That meddling, spoiled little _shit._ How dare he interfere. His face turns bright red, but he forces a smile after a moment, all teeth.

“No matter,” he hisses out.

“I’ll have him soon enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanamiya, you're just salty.


	10. Stop in the Name of King Nodd!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kuroko breaks into the palace and gets the goods. A grand chase scene ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay but when you're done reading, WATCH the [fucking chase scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-KGQ4PfQdTc) from Thief and the Cobbler, it's a beautiful piece of animation, one of the best parts of the film imo. 
> 
> ((the soundtrack is wrong in the above link. [This one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mwtc9SAzrP8) has the right music but the quality is 240p, your choice. They're both only two minutes, might as well watch both and get a look at Tak the cutie pie.)

Exhausted, Kuroko shimmies his way up the pipes, determined to make his way back up yet again, crawling through the slime and mineral deposits that have built up on the interior wall of the plumbing system.

Plaster and screws fall loose on the exterior as he rattles his way through. Is this what it feels like to be a rat in the walls? 

_ 'Cool.' _

The pipes lead up to the king’s turret again, but when Kuroko arrives at the T-junction, this time he turns left towards the other turret tower. As he scrabbles forward, his foot pops out, flailing wildly as a section of pipe falls away beneath him, giving him a whirling second of intense vertigo, the moat looming far below him, but he pulls himself in and stretches out, dragging himself along like a worm through the earth.

The flies, dutifully waiting just outside the pipe, zoom in through the hole and follow him up through the turret, buzzing and rattling beneath him until he reaches the end.

_ 'Let’s see what we can find—'  _

He inserts his fingers in a drain cover from below and pops it off, sticking his head out and gently setting the metal cover down with a  _ clink _ . He curls his fingertips around the rim of the drain, peering out. It’s a beautiful mosaic tiled floor fogged with steam, stretching out across a vast open room.

Water spills through many different bathing pools, and maids scurry along before the humongous glass-less windows. White linen curtains hang down between high-pillared archways that show a beautiful view of the gardens, towering cypress and palm leaves, bushes and flowers whispering in the wind— a lone figure soaks in the bath.

A girl is in the water, humming and singing merrily to herself, playing with a whirl of floating bubbles,  _ huge  _ lilac-colored bubbles that reflect her pretty face. Rose petals and anemone blossoms float on the bath, the petals covering the crystal clear water’s surface and hugging at her figure to conceal her bare body beneath.

Idling and enjoying the perfumed water, she hums a sweet tune, oblivious that she’s being spied upon in the bath.

She lifts a bubble that contains a blossom up on a wet fingertip and it pops. She sniffs the blossom and then recoils in puzzlement, wrinkling her nose and putting a hand to her face to cover a foul smell.

Unseen behind her, head poking out of the drain, Kuroko swats at the buzzing flies, gazing at the shimmering bubbles that reflect his dirty face. The glittering jewel-like surface fascinates him.

_ 'Whoa… Can this be……………….. Soap?' _

He puts out a finger and pops a bubble. A clear spot appears on his grubby fingertip.

Tentatively, he sticks out his tongue and catches one, which bursts, promptly sending him back in a fit of disgust— aw,  _ gross. _

He crawls out across the tiles on his belly, sliding on the moist, polished floor, leaving a smear of dirt and grime trailing behind him as his coat drags. He stops when he nears the edge of the bath and sees a lovely head and a lovelier back and shoulders.

And when she turns in the water, singing, Kuroko’s lays eyes on the most beautiful, humongous— 

_ Rubies  _ he’s ever seen. 

I mean, man, look at the size of those things. 

She has a sparkling jewel-encrusted backscratcher in hand, using it to scrub her back. It’s shaped like a thin arm with a little golden hand on the end, and it’s studded up the side with huge handsomely cut rubies that glitter and gleam.

_ 'That’s for me— score.' _

And because he can’t stick to a plan, however vague — _climb the pipes, get out of the palace, find the gold balls, leave through the front gate— _not without making any side stops that present the opportunity, Kuroko crawls to the side of the bath, hidden behind a vase.

He watches with round eyes as she scratches her back and sings, holding out his hand and waiting to strike. When her arm stretches up, he pinches the center of the backscratcher and it slides out of her hand. He ducks down.

She straightens up, rose petals clinging to her breasts and arms. She swipes in the water to try to clear it, but petals refill the place she sweeps. She fishes in the water for it, hair streaming in the bath like fine pink silk.

“Where is my backscratcher?” she wonders sweetly, voice echoing, thinking it has merely managed to slip out of her wet hand and float to the bottom.

“In the water?” she muses. “Ah well…”

Kuroko, amazingly, managed to get away with such a brazen theft, going unnoticed as always. The maids don’t see him either.

And oh, he’s all kinds of lucky today, because she reaches out and takes up another one. She has  _ two _ of the same backscratchers, a right arm and a left arm. 

_ 'O-ho-hoh— Hello gorgeous—' _ Kuroko reaches out and slides this one away too, and then promptly escapes along the floor beside the bath.

Princess Satsuki fishes around, bewildered, and by the time she looks up, he’s already gone.

Kuroko backs towards the curtained door and hurries down along the corridor, feeling pleased with himself. His sleeves cover his real hands, so the little fork-like backscratchers appear as if they are his own tiny hands. 

_ 'Heh— I’m a boss.'  _

This palace is an absolute gold mine. Perhaps he can acquire a few more items of interest before he makes his way outside for the real prize. Those _balls._

He backs down the corridor for some ways and isn’t followed, seeing no one, and gives himself some hearty congratulations for such a well-executed scheme.  _ Brilliant, I say—  _

Kagami, in the meantime, has been fixing the other shoe.

He’s been dutifully fixing the shoe and has  _ not  _ been taking advantage of the opulent setting he finds himself in, nor pilfered any of the priceless objects filling the rooms top to bottom— unlike some people, who shall be nameless.

He’s been left undisturbed for perhaps half an hour, other than some servants who have brought him some fine materials, stretches of leather and bolts of fabric, threads and tools, sent for by the prince perhaps. It’s enough stuff that he could probably make a whole wardrobe of shoes, excessive and unnecessary for his small task of mending a tear in a single shoe. Kagami tries not to feel too flustered and giddy, but it feels rather like receiving a bouquet of flowers from a beau. Fuck, his brother did always say he’s a huge sucker, but he never could help it.

Sitting obediently in the prince’s rooms, Kagami keeps the torn slipper suspended in a cat’s cradle of thread that runs between his hands. He’s taking extra care with this one. Now that he knows his efforts will be received warmly, he wants to put his all into it.

He hopes Daiki—  _ Prince Daiki, that is _ — will be impressed. He hopes he’ll like the design he makes and will see his feelings through the care he takes and the love he puts in. 

Kagami delicately twists and wraps the threads, and then shapes a piece of leather to the sole, carefully sized and then cut away. He holds a hammer between his feet to keep it steady, and at last, he knocks the final tack into the shoe’s sole to attach it.

Once he’s fixed it to perfection, he lines the pair of shoes up in front of him and waits patiently, left alone with the guards. Prince Daiki had retreated for his morning soak perhaps an hour ago now. 

Kagami puts his hands to his face for a moment and scrubs. The big brat has been kind to him. He keeps thinking that must be some sort of scheme, it must have bad intent behind it, because that’s the only explanation that makes sense, but… but now…

Now he’s having a hard time believing that. He thinks it really must be true, after all. All the signs he’s seen, Prince Daiki’s open interest in him, the way he smiles at him so much, his sparkling eyes, and how eager he is to be friendly with him— Kagami had thought it was some kind of trick to draw him in for who knows what reason, but…

_ ‘I have to make sure they match, don’t I—’ _

Kagami buries his face in his hands, looks down at the pair of shoes in his lap, decked with hearts.

That has to be genuine, hasn’t it.

He’s caught Kagami completely off guard, disarmed him and blown all his expectations away, and… and Kagami likes him. He likes him so much, and he thinks that maybe— 

Prince Daiki’s just been so nice to him. He’s gone to such an effort to keep Kagami around a little longer. Is it possible that he can feel the same way?  He’s helped him twice now, broken a priceless set of shoes like it meant nothing to him, and why— so that he will have the excuse of remaining in Kagami’s company for an afternoon? He’d ripped his expensive slippers for such a trifle?

The more he thinks about it, the more he starts to hope, and the more he’s convinced that ' _ he must like me— he must. Fuck, what other reason could there be.  _

_ He had all that stuff brought, he must want me to stay and make shoes for him and Princess Satsuki— and he did say he wants to sit and talk more, didn’t he… Fuck, I think he actually likes me. Can this really be happening? _

_ How have I come upon such good fortune after such a shitty morning— I’ve been repaid for my troubles tenfold. _

_ If it’s really true, I’ll make him as many shoes as he wants...' _

He’s so distracted by his happy daydreaming, fiddling with a bit of twine and scrap, that he doesn’t notice a tiny figure shuffling backwards down the steps in the foyer, blindly coming towards him on silent feet.

A butterfly has fluttered in through a window and settled on a vase of flowers, catching his attention as it tends to the exquisite and fragrant blooms, gifts of a doting brother to make his sister comfortable in his rooms— a convenient distraction from the unknown interloper rapidly closing the distance between them.

The fabulous designs in Kagami’s works have always come from distant memory or from his own imagination, so he’s been drinking in the surroundings while he has the chance and observing the bouquets and the prince’s trinkets up close, trying to commit their designs to memory and letting his mind run away with ideas for fancy embroidery and woven brocade. 

He puts down his work so he can get up and smell them, moving his face into the blooms, the butterfly fluttering and alighting on a different petal, nestling into the center for the nectar. Kagami draws back, screwing his face up in disgust after a long inhale.

_ Aw—  _ Not at all as pretty as he’d thought. That smells awful.

No… it’s not the flowers.

Kagami straightens up, sniffing some more and scowling. Where is that coming from? Something smells foul. Oh, that’s _rancid._ Like the poop-water from the moat. Like the sewage pits in the city waste-water channels. Like rotten food and— 

Something hits him in the back and he straightens up like lightning, heart jolting something terrible. He throws his arms behind him and grabs the person, who grabs him back, but Kagami’s bigger and stronger, and he hurls himself forward, lifting the person right off their feet as he flips them over his shoulder and slams them into the ground.

Startled, he sees the grubby thief from this morning, the one who’d been to blame in his ending up here in the palace in the first place— the one who’d gotten him in trouble and then bailed.

_ 'It's YOU—' _

Kagami feels an instant swell of rage boil within him. The balls on this guy! What is he doing in the palace?!

He’s about to get the guards’ attention, amazed that they hadn’t already seen and seized the intruder, but in a split second reaction, the thief, staring up at him from the floor with this infuriatingly bland stare, reaches out and grabs the prince’s shoe out of his hand.

Just  _ snatches it—  _

He nabs it too quickly for Kagami to react and promptly bolts in the other direction.  _ Bye bitch.  _

Kagami felt a jerk in his gut, and tears after him.

He doesn’t really think of the trouble he could get into. Honestly, that should be his first thought, that he’ll be punished if the shoe turns up missing, but he doesn’t stop to consider that, nor does he consider what the consequences of being found running around the palace will be. All he thinks in that moment is—  _ that was for Prince Daiki.  _

They run through the palace, racing across the marble floors, feet slipping wildly as they rush in and out of corridors, past mirrors and through archways and down stairs. They’re going so fast that the guards stationed at each doorway are slow to react and follow them. At some point the thief runs through a doorway into a darkened room and jumps through a pink palanquin, and Kagami barrels in after him, finding that it was very much already occupied,  _ oh god, didn’t need to see that—  _

Kagami scrambles after the thief, running and sliding through a guard’s legs as he makes a turn.

He loses him at some point, so he slows down, looking around wildly, hot steam coming from his nose like an angry bull as he pants and huffs. The hall is quiet and still. Then, puzzled, he lifts up the lids of some large wine jugs lining the wall, standing on his toes to peek inside. As he looks in, a little head peeks up out of the end jug, watching him, and as the thief tries to climb out silently, he tips too far and the jug falls over with a crash. Kagami jumps up, leaping at him as the other casks slip like dominoes, rolling and bouncing after them down the stairs. One of the heavy casks breaks when it hits the floor and spills wine like a flood wave.

Kagami barrels towards the thief, who is zipping around a corner, slipping and sliding in sticky slick wine, feet wobbling as he runs. He leaps at him and finally yanks the shoe out of his thieving hands, keeping stride with him as he tries to escape.

_ 'Take that, you little shit— Fuck you, and fuck the man who fathered you—' _

The thief slips in the wine, and the momentum of their sprint keeps him sliding down a staircase spiraling below, and when they reach the bottom he flies off the banister in a great arc, smashing gloriously through a stained glass window, soaring across the room and out another stained glass window.

_ 'Well he’s fucked,' _ Kagami thinks, but he finds his feet are skidding too as he tries to slow down in the spill of wine, heels windmilling him backwards onto his butt as he shoots down another set of stairs, through some doors, and then slides top speed down a long hallway. 

He dives between the legs of guards who bar a series of archways, shooting all the way down the hall,  _ heavenly gods, _ why do they polish the floor to such a fine finish, it’s like sliding on shoe wax— he zooms all the way into a dark room at the end of the hall, his momentum finally coming to a halt when he rams into a man and knocks him over, falling on top of him in a heap.

Tacks spill out of his pockets by the dozens for like, the third time today. Oh geez, he’d really plowed that guy down. Whoops—

Kagami suddenly recognizes the mean-eyed courtiers from earlier and as some guards block his exit, instead of feeling afraid, now he just feels vaguely harangued. They could stand to cool it with the swords, they’re worse than the Roman legion. 

Also,  _ holy ten-headed hydra—  _ it’s Hanamiya.

Hanamiya, whose rage-filled grimace of pain and offense turns into a smile at the sight of him, a toothy smile that stretches his unsettling frog-like mouth. He rises, smoothing his wizard’s robes. 

“Ah!” he says, and Kagami realizes he’s seen the shoe in his hand. He takes a hold of it, his grip cold and slimy, and tries to remove it, but Kagami hangs on, glaring back with open hostility and refusing to relinquish it.

Hanamiya yanks on it hard, but Kagami  won’t let go , which just means he gets towed forward, lurching sharply and struggling to stay upright.

”You’ve finished the prince’s shoe! Excellent work.” He doesn’t understand a single word, too focused on hanging on with a vise-like grip.

Kagami gets jacked around a little more when Hanamiya rips at the shoe, pulling it viciously, but Kagami  doesn’t let go, fumbling around trying to hold onto it. Hanamiya pulls him in close and smiles sinisterly. 

“Now he has no need of you.” Kagami gets enough of that that his stomach drops.

He’s done what he came to do, and Prince Daiki won’t miss him and won’t notice his absence, or at least that’s what Hanamiya thinks, and now he can carry out whatever he’d had in mind for Kagami originally.

The guards’ scimitars pin him to the wall by the neck, and it doesn’t look like running away is an option. Kagami gulps, squeezing the slipper in his fist. 

“And I can throw you in a cell as I’ve always wished.”   
  


_ Aw fuck. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOO, boo i say.
> 
> Kuroko, you stealy boy why do you keep getting kagami into shit.


	11. The Best Polo Ponies of the Orient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kagami broods in the palace dungeon. Will he ever see the prince again?

Kagami sits boredly in the tiny cell they’d tossed him in, as he has been for many hours.

They’d towed him down into the dungeon basement of the palace, and they’d _ thrown _ him in this tiny room, barely five by five paces, with a barred wooden door. To his horror, the first thing he sees is the skulls and bones lining the floor. Angry and frightened, he whirls back just in time for the door to slam behind him. The footsteps fade and he’s left alone.

He would have kicked the door, but it’s studded with humongous spikes and a large keyhole emblazoned in the shape of a spider. There’s nothing to do but plop down on the plank bench and brood. He’s been like that ever since, anger dissipating as the lonely hours pass.

The ball and chain around his ankle is already starting to chafe. He’s got a bowl of water and a crust of bread, but that’s it. He sits and waits, feeding some mice his fallen crumbs and thinking sadly of Prince Daiki.

They hadn’t bothered to take anything away from him, having allowed him to keep the shoe and his tools, so he takes out Aomine’s slipper and starts embroidering roses onto it, and some attempts to recreate the hydrangea and magnolia from his room.

Kagami thinks of him and his handsome face, the boyish glint to his excited smile, his kind and friendly nature. Kagami had felt enraptured by him, and what keeps coming back to him, the moment that flutters his heart, is his memory of being allowed to put his slipper on for him, hold his foot in his hand.

The sole had felt so tender to the touch, completely uncalloused and soft as butter. Like the foot of a baby— 

Ahh, and the way Prince Daiki had clasped his hands in his just before he’d gone, the way he’d looked at him so lovingly, softly requesting that he wait for his return— _ put a heart on this one for me too, okay? _

He’s not at all what Kagami had thought and expected a prince would be. He’d thought his generosity, if not some sadistic game of cat and mouse that demanded he lull Kagami into a false sense of security before throwing him to the sharks— if not that, then he was being played with by the palace lech, shown advances by a playboy who must have grown insanely bored with court ladies and concubines to have sunk so low as to try and fuck a shoemaker, the lowest common denominator— 

But . . .

Aomine had looked at him with curiosity and a glittering interest, the look of a spoiled child who’d found a new plaything. And yet he had held back, sitting patiently as Kagami worked, undemanding and uncritical. And when he’d come to sit in his company and speak with him, he’d seemed fascinated with his every move, charmed by his silent attempts at returning conversation. He’d laughed and beamed at him. He was not lewd, he was not overbearing or lusty, and his flirtations were tentative and boyish. He’d treated him so kindly that the longer Kagami thinks of it, he's starting to find it hard to impugne bad motives, or— or suspect him of _ waiting to pounce _ or something.

The prince had snatched him from Hanamiya’s clutches twice, and had asked that he stay and keep him company. Asks that he give him his heart one more time— 

Kagami’s surprised and delighted to find that within Prince Daiki, decked in jewels and riches from head to toe, there lay a heart of gold as well.

Which made his current predicament all that much harder to bear.

It had been a nice dream, a wonderful hour or so spent together. But it was over now, and it would be silly for Kagami to hope that he would ever see him again.

And if he did, it’s not as if there was any future in it. It’s not as if Aomine would ever really feel the same way about a person like him. He will never love Kagami, not in any lasting sense. And that’s not Kagami being down on himself, he’s just being realistic. Princes don’t fall in love with people like him, the lowest social standing, _ unclean, _on par with the street sweepers and sewage workers. Kagami is less than no one. He’s destitute, working day and night just to feed himself, and Aomine is an exquisite gem, rich and handsome and educated and in line for all the good things the world can offer. He will be king one day, and Kagami— 

Even if Aomine really did like him, really felt the same, the most Kagami could hope for was to become the prince’s lover for a time. He would have likely fascinated himself with Kagami for a few days, weeks, months perhaps— but one day Aomine’s curiosity would be satisfied, and his dalliance with Kagami would grow tiresome. His duty to his family, to his kingdom, to politics, even to his own libido, it would draw him away, and then— 

Kagami sighs, shaking his head. He's thinking too far into something that would never be.

It was nice to be able to meet him in person at least. An opportunity beyond his wildest dreams. Kagami wishes he could see him again, even once more. 

Even if only to return the shoe to him, so he can leave his heart behind.

He sighs sadly. In the meantime, what is his fate to be? Execution? Or perhaps he’s to be imprisoned indefinitely. He can’t imagine that Hanamiya will let anyone find out what’s happened to him, and Kagami aches with the thought that he will probably tell the prince that he left without a word, perhaps even that he _ stole _the shoe and ran away, untrustworthy wretch.

He hopes that Aomine won’t believe it, that he won’t think ill of him.

Mice creep out of a mousehole in the stone wall and peek at him, snuffling for crumbs. Kagami absently uses a tool to fix the crumbling opening of the mousehole and feeds one a little piece of bread that fell. It sniffs and eats it from his hand.

He looks up. He can hear the sound of horses close by. 

Kagami stands up and peers above him. There is a tiny window opening far, _ far _ above him and his basement cell, the rim of the window just level with the ground outside. He can see grass poking through the bars. Thoughtfully, he picks up the ball at the end of his ankle chain and hefts it onto the bench, which holds its weight. Climbing up and balancing on top of the ball, he hammers a few tacks into the wall to make some footholds, then leaps upwards.

He grabs the bars, and with some effort, he pulls himself up. He lets his foot rest on the tacks that jut out of the wall. They dig painfully into the sole of his foot, but hold him.

He peers through into a mess of horse’s hooves, and beyond that, he looks out upon a beautifully picturesque game of polo.

The horses are being trotted out on review for the king, who is fanned and fed, shielded from the sunlight as he sits in a viewing pavilion of tents before a magnificently groomed polo field that lies beyond the palace’s main complex. The pink palanquin Kagami dreads to remember is straddled beside the king. He seems vaguely interested in the horses, but is mainly distracted by the man at his side. 

Hanamiya, damn him, looms there like a huge black crow, a dark spot on a landscape of white and gold.

He’s blathering at the king, practically salivating and telling him how he sent for the best ponies from Cathay, _ as your vizier and servant, I adore you and wish to please you— _

_ Bleah— _Kagami gags. He’s really laying it on thick, but it seems to be working to some degree.

“Yes, yes, very nice.”

Satisfied with that much, Hanamiya draws up and proclaims to the assembly of nobles and subjects, _ “To please Emperor Aomine, commence the game!” _

Trumpets blare, and amid the cheering, whinnying, and thundering hooves, the game begins, too far away for Kagami to see as they run off through the well-manicured yard and along the meadowed hills.

Also sitting up in the royal pavilion beneath a shaded canvas canopy, is the dazzling princess, eating a pear and humming absently, watching the game with some measure of interest.

And beside her is a very bored and very unhappy prince—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay but imagine aomine finding kagami missing, and then going all around the city with the remaining shoe, lovelorn and desperately searching for his lost Cinderella-min.


	12. Oh, What a Wonderful Swing!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aomine's in a rotten mood, daydreaming at the polo match. His cobbler's been misplaced and Hanamiya's wretched leering is boiling his temper.

Aomine sits in the shade with his head on his hand, sprawled back with no thought spared to decorum during a public appearance, leg up on the arm of his chair as he glares out in irritation.

He and Satsuki are attending an impromptu polo game with Father, organized by Hanamiya, who is there talking Dad’s ear off, trying to butter him up for who knows what. 

Father’s head is nodding, and not in approval. 

Aomine finds it amusing because usually _ he’s _ the one falling asleep on official business. Dad’s palace girl must have worn him out already. Usually that would make Aomine laugh. Usually he’d be trying to rile Satsuki up by pretending he’s gonna’ take a peek, open the palanquin curtain and get a look at Dad’s lavish woman, but today he’s not in the mood. 

For one thing, after their bath, he and Satsuki have been dressed in their afternoon wear as usual, but instead of something leisurely or comfortable, they’d been told they were to appear outside, and so Satsuki’s hair is elaborately styled up with jade hairpins and a golden tiara, and she’s been covered more modestly in a loose dress and a robe to drape over her head. Aomine’s been decorated in sea green and is being made to wear his coat, and since the polo game has spectators, he has to actually keep the thing on. It’s only been about twenty minutes and he’s already very annoyed.

What’s more is that this match has interrupted his very important afternoon plans with a certain someone, and he doesn’t like when things don’t go his way.

Not long before, Aomine had lounged in the bath, daydreaming happily, soaking in an outdoor pool beneath a terraced patio. He’d looked out through the columns upon the lush gardens, the blue sky, and felt that life is just beginning. A collonade stretched off, cordoning the courtyard beyond, framing gardens and fountains and lush flowerbeds.

He’s living a very extravagant life, waited on, fed and bathed, enjoying every worldly comfort, surrounded by beauty. He’s insanely spoiled, everything he owns is opulent and expensive from his jeweled clothes to his decorated rooms. He’s fed the finest, sweetest fruits— a plate is set out for him to snack on as he bathes in a humongous crystal-clear pool in the garden. The water is warmed to the perfect temperature and strewn with rose petals and sweet perfume, thousands of jade stones set into the tiles hugging the edges of the bath. 

All the ills of society have been kept locked in Pandora’s box, a conscience unspoiled by death, sickness, and poverty— sufferings he’s been entirely shielded from. 

No struggles to distress him, no fears or troubles, Aomine has grown up wanting for nothing. Except— 

A companion. Someone to talk to and spend time with, someone who loves him. That’s something that can’t simply be bought, not with all the riches in the world.

Kagami. A bright spirit that calls to his heart with his enchanting silence, with his tack-filled smile, and his charming sense of humor, his spunk, his artistry, his courage and romance. To Aomine, Kagami feels like everything he’s ever wanted, everything he’s waited for and longer for. Perhaps most importantly, he might be the first person besides Satsuki who’s talked to him— well, _talked_ in the metaphorical sense — as if he were anybody, an ordinary person. Aomine had actually felt like himself for a minute. Everything else had gone away and for a _moment,_ Aomine had felt that someone had finally seen… _him. _Not the prince, not his father’s son, just Daiki. 

Someone had finally seen him as he is, and for the first time in a very long time, he’d felt genuinely happy. He’d felt content and fulfilled. He likes Kagami, likes him _ so, so much. _

It’s amazing, in a way. He hadn’t even had to say a single word, and yet Aomine’s fallen for him desperately hard.

And his spoiled, privileged, pampered life. The place he knows, perfect but for the one missing piece. He wants to bring Kagami into his world, make him a part of this earthly paradise.

He passes the time thinking merry thoughts, planning on how he can achieve such a thing, how he can befriend Kagami, woo him, how to court him and get him to like him, how to convince him to stay and keep him company in the palace. Kagami has already won him over with the shoe heart, no room for misinterpretation there, but Aomine feels antsy with anticipation that this opportunity should not slip from his grasp. He’s excited and nervous, eager to reciprocate the romance, eager to treat him nicely and please him, show him his feelings are pure and true.

He wants to walk with Kagami in the garden, talk with him and get to know him. He wants to show Kagami his pets, beautiful birds of paradise with long colorful feathers, his pet cats that roam the garden, cared for and groomed by the palace attendants to be ready anytime Aomine wishes to visit them. He wants to take him through the gardens to see the wandering flocks of peacocks and pheasants, the packs of friendly red hounds with wagging tails and tongues, the bengal tigers kept so fat and well-fed that they left the other creatures alone, lounging in the sun as tame as a wild beast could be.

Perhaps today, later on, he will take Kagami through the palace, show him all the pretty paintings and statues. He wants to show him the Hanging Gardens— bring him before the wondrous sight of the tiered balconies overflowing with verdant greenery, flowers capping a brilliant mosaic of bright blue tiles bedecked with humongous visages of griffins made from pure gold. 

There, together in the garden, when he’s dazzled Kagami and taken his breath away, Aomine will find the courage to kiss him— 

However, when he’d come from his bath, smelling extra sweet, made handsome by attendants he’d called to shape his brows and pick his teeth, color his lashes, perfume him and sweeten his breath— he’d found Kagami gone.

The disappointment was wounding. And if this weren’t enough, the lack of response when he’d asked his servants as to his whereabouts had him in a rotten mood. He hadn’t gotten any direct answers and couldn’t even be sure of what had happened. If Kagami had ended up somewhere else in the palace for some reason, or if… or if he’d _ left_.

He’d only gotten a short time to ask around before he’d been summoned here to oversee the game, which normally he’d be interested in. He’s actually pretty good at polo himself. He and Satsuki had both learned to play as children, but today’s match is more for the cavalry to shine and show its skill for the king.

Aomine’s used to this kind of thing and takes it in stride. His life is one amusement trotted out to him after another, entertainment brought to please him, pretty things to look at, fun to be had, speeches and banquets and council meetings to nap through— 

But today, he would have rather skipped to be with his cobbler. Perhaps he would’ve even brought Kagami here to watch with him, if he’d been about.

He’d asked all through the harem when he’d come to accompany Satsuki, all his sisters and aunties, all his little brothers, _where is my cobbler?_ _Have you seen him, any of you—? _

He’s asked the guards and servants, asked his attendant, Takao, and Midorima, the palace physician. But no one has answered him to his satisfaction. And how would they know. He knows Kagami had only been with him for a short time, and it would be reasonable to assume they hadn’t had long enough to have found out about Kagami— it’s only about noon, but he knows better. Gossip travels fast, a palace pastime. He’s sure everyone has heard of him by this time, and at least some of them must know what had become of him.

A few had seen him running through the halls, chasing a grubby little thing, but that’s all Aomine had found out before he’d been summoned here. He knows now that Kagami had indeed left his rooms, but it only raises more questions. Why? And where was he now?

As the midday sun grows hot and warms the air, the servants fan them enthusiastically, cooling the sweat on his neck. Aomine begrudgingly munches on some fruit and stares out on the fine polo horses and their stalwart riders, anxiously thinking of Kagami.

_ Gone— _

When Aomine had returned, all that was left of Kagami was one lonely slipper laying on the carpet, the only sign that he’d ever been there at all, that he’d ever existed outside Aomine’s lonely imagination.

Puzzlingly, he’d only left the _ one _shoe behind, so it’s not as if he’d finished the pair of them and then quietly left the castle with his work completed, having simply declined Aomine’s invitation to stay and visit a while longer.

Aomine had asked him to wait for him and Kagami had nodded yes. He’d felt so sure that he would be there, waiting for his return. How could he not have been there when he’d come back to collect him? Had he really left?

Perhaps once he’d finished the second shoe, he’d been ushered out by the staff, who may have not seen a need for Kagami to personally give the completed shoes to their prince. But if that were the case, where was his other new shoe?

He hadn’t been able to get answers from the servants on where Kagami had been holed up, if they’d stowed him somewhere or sent him home, but he hopes that he’ll get those answers soon— then Kagami will be returned to him and all will be well.

Hopefully he’s just in some corner of the palace, and if he’s not in the palace anymore, if he’d been sent out into the city in error, told to return home by some thoughtless palace worker who didn’t know Aomine still had need of Kagami, then Aomine will just have to send for him, use a royal summons so that he can be located and compelled to return.

Then— then Aomine can offer him a job. He’ll make it worth his while to stay. He’ll invite Kagami back and then they can talk again…

But he doesn’t think this scenario is likely. He can’t imagine that Kagami had gone out of the palace without even saying goodbye. At least not of his own will. He can’t let himself think for a moment that Kagami’s bold gesture, placing a heart on his slipper, he can’t imagine those feelings could be so fickle as to be forgotten in an hour’s time. He would not have left.

Certainly not without returning the completed slipper to Aomine first— at the very least. 

He hums thoughtfully. It stood to reason that if Kagami had completed his duties, if someone had sent him home, Kagami may not have spoken up and told them of Aomine’s invitation to remain. He’s not exactly meek, but he’s clearly not a talker. That may be it, he’d been bullied out and had felt obliged to leave quietly— 

But then, again— why weren’t both slippers left behind so that they could be delivered to Aomine by a servant. Why would Kagami take only one of them out of the palace with him. It’s quite perplexing.

At least Aomine has the one slipper, something to search for Kagami with, if it comes to that.

He hopes Kagami is simply being kept in the servants’ quarters. He hopes he’s being treated well there, awaiting his return with the same bated breath Aomine holds in his own chest. He doesn’t like to think that Kagami’s being treated badly somewhere, escorted out like a criminal and sent home. 

He’ll send for him when the game is over, or tomorrow morning at the latest if he can’t be found before then, and if he’s not brought to Aomine by then, he’s going to raise absolute hell with the fit he’ll pitch— he hasn’t thrown a good one in a while and he’s feeling irritable enough for it.

What irks him is that he knows for sure that the guards in his room have to know what happened. They must have seen Kagami go, whether he’d left on his own or had been taken out.

What’s more is that he suspects the ones who’d come to take Kagami to Hanamiya may know even more.

Aomine comes out of his dark cloud of brooding somewhat— Satsuki is teasing and picking on him, and now that they’re away from Kagami, she goes into full pestering mode, picking him apart.

“Did you really break a shoe, Daiki?” she chastises knowingly.

He pretends not to hear her, sheepishly thinking of his treasured shoe collection and the many times he’s lost his temper at poor servants for not cleaning the floor properly, thereby allowing his shoes to tarnish when they gathered dust and dirt on the soles. He’s known for being a bit of an ass about that kind of thing.

“What a fine coincidence,” she notes, and Aomine mentally groans. Haven’t they already gone over this. “Or is there something more to this—”

Refusing to give her the satisfaction, he raises an eyebrow like he doesn’t know a thing about it. “What do you say it is.”

“I saw the attention you were giving him.”

“What of it.”

“More than any you’ve shown to your palace ladies— by far,” she stresses, and Aomine tries not to feel defensive, tries to keep up his aloof uninterested attitude. Anything to keep her from knowing just how silly and excited he feels.

“Too much effort. They don’t interest me.”

“And a lonely street boy does.”

“Ahh Satsuki, so observant,” he sighs, because there’s no point in trying to get anything by her. It’s better she’s an ally than an enemy, that’s for certain.

”Maybe you can tell me where he’s gone, then.”

Raising her eyebrows and taking a pointed bite of a date, she says, a touch scathingly, “If I’m honest, my brother, I think he dreads the thought of playing your game any longer.”

“What?”

“Yes. You must have frightened him away with your inappropriate and salacious advances.”

“What? What advances?!” Aomine sputters, mortified. 

_ “Oh~ Fix my shoe~” _She puts an arm behind her head and sways, and Aomine hurriedly hushes her up, indignant, cheeks and ears blazing hot— 

_ He hadn’t come on that strong, had he? _

He scowls and stares out at the polo game, petulantly trying to look interested in the thundering hooves and the occasional crack of the ball. He smokes from a hookah, inhaling the sweet opium smoke from the poppies in the palace fields. One or two rings to impress Father, but he’s in too foul a mood to enjoy himself, passing it to Satsuki. 

Hanamiya’s huge bird is perched next to them, eyeing their plate of cheese. Sipping some wine, tipping his nose into his cup, Aomine watches it as they snack, practically licking its chops, if a bird could lick its chops, that is— 

He holds out a nut for it between two fingers, and this fucking bird just about takes his finger off when it snaps it up. 

“Hanamiya, you need to feed this thing better,” he snaps, shaking his hand as he quickly withdraws it.

“Oh Daiki,” Satsuki tries to cheer him when he slumps down, folding his arms. “Don’t look so sour.”

“I just don’t see why he would leave without saying a thing,” he mumbles, starting to feel a touch anxious. He can’t get it off his mind.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up. He didn’t seem the type to me, to sneak off.” 

Aomine’s shoulders loosen. If Satsuki thinks so, then perhaps he’s not in denial and ignoring the obvious to keep his heart from breaking. Kagami had a good soul, he was sure of it— he wasn’t tricked, he just knows it. 

But then where has he gone? Maybe something had happened. 

It’s most likely the servants had fed him the midday meal and given him quarters in some modest place, perhaps the stables— Maybe that’s why the house servants had told him they don’t know what became of him. Aomine knows that Kagami’s probably just been misplaced, but even so...

It troubles him, not knowing where he is. He feels worried. 

Perhaps… Perhaps something _ bad _ has happened. He doesn’t want to believe that Kagami was capable of tricking him and sneaking out, but if that’s not the case then… What has become of him? He would not have run away, surely…

“He seemed taken with you as well, my brother,” Satsuki says slyly, interrupting his brooding, and Aomine clears his throat, shifting and refusing to make eye contact. He grinds his teeth, ears hot under her amused gaze, but at last he can’t help himself.

“... Do you think so?” he mumbles.

“I do." 

Aomine hums.

"I saw the heart he made, what else can that mean," Satsuki notes, which makes his shoulders ease a little. He’s sure she’s right about that. “So romantic,” she sighs, hands on her cheeks, and Aomine, who’s out of his head over the whole thing, just huffs and blurts out— 

“Right? Fuck.”

“And so bold—”

"Fuck, _ I know," _ he groans in agreement, slapping his chin into his palm and sighing wistfully. Shit, how did he let Kagami get away...

"He certainly shares your interest to show you passion like that,” Satsuki assures, and Aomine feels his heart swell, taking a calming breath and settling his anxious mind. “Mind you don’t abuse him, he’s taken a risk to flirt with you. Don’t play with him cold-heartedly. Kagami is sweet, and you should match his sincerity—”

“I'll more than match it,” he mumbles absently. If she’s right about any of it, if there’s even a chance that she’s right, it’s all the more reason he needs to find Kagami again. He’ll search the city far and wide for the one who’d fixed his slipper and won his heart— All will be well. He always gets his heart’s desire one way or another. His naive and spoiled life has led him to expect nothing less. 

“Father,” he calls, changing tactics and leaning over towards Father’s chair. He hasn’t a care for interrupting Hanamiya, it’s not as if they’re talking business anyway. “Father—”

“Hm.” Dad snaps out of his doze, having mastered the art of appearing as though he was listening to his vizier when in fact he was sleeping with his eyes open. Aomine expects he’ll have to learn that skill too, as king. He’s already had a lot of practice, that’s for sure. 

Hearing his child’s voice, the king rouses, searching him out, eyes warming when they land on Daiki. “Yes— Yes, my boy.”

“What’s become of my cobbler, do you know?” Aomine hums, leaning on the arm of Dad’s chair. “From this morning,” he reminds when he just strokes his beard and frowns.

Father seems to remember then, because he gives a knowing hum, brow furrowing. “He hasn’t fixed your shoe to your liking?” he surmises.

“Huh?” Aomine blinks. “Oh. No, he has. It’s a beautiful work— I’ve never seen the like. Fit to work in the palace,” he chatters. One might assume he’s laying it on thick so that he can get his prospective beau a job, but favoritism aside, he tells no word of a lie. Kagami’s skill speaks for itself.

Maybe Father will let him keep him on. He can’t imagine that he’d say no, if he could find Kagami again and show him his artistry— although perhaps he’ll keep the shoe hearts a secret for now.

“I was with him until just before the polo match.” It really is just like the staff to spirit him away the second he took his eye off him, finding a place to stash him until Daiki had need of him again. A place for everything and everything in its place— 

“I still have need of him. Where can he have gone, do you think?”

Father opens his mouth, but just then a loud wooden _ whack _ sounds off as a mallet strikes the polo ball square on and sends it flying. Hanamiya pops in and swiftly reclaims the attention of the king.

“An amazing shot, Your Highness. The cavalry is as skilled as ever,” Hanamiya remarks, casting Aomine a smug smirk, which has his blood pressure rising. 

“Yes, yes, of course—” 

Aomine grinds his teeth, glaring at Hanamiya. _ ‘If you could stop fellating my dad for two seconds, I’m trying to talk to him. It’d be nice to actually get to do that once in a while, y’know. If you don’t _fucking _mind—’ _

He really wants to say it, he wants to say it _ so _bad, but he keeps his mouth shut. 

It’s too late anyways. The moment has passed and Dad’s attention has waned.

He settles back in his seat, disgruntled and steaming from the ears, but he’s used to it honestly. Father has never had a lot of time to talk, sometimes getting downright short and unattentive— especially when Aomine’s been particularly disobedient or improper lately. Perhaps Father’s displeased that he had slept on the job again this morning.

Ah well. He probably isn’t upset this time. Just distracted. Aomine shakes his head, but lets it lie. Father loves the polo games. And besides, he knows it’s hard to focus when Hanamiya’s blabbing in _ his _ear, and Dad has to listen to it almost every minute of every day.

In any case, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. When Aomine acts out, Father just ignores it— ignores _ him. _

He’s used to that kind of treatment. Instantly granted anything he wants. Given way too much slack. Never _ punished _for his faults and failings— but the thing he wants most, his father’s attention and approval, he is denied that. And he will continue to be denied until he takes the mantle of prince more seriously.

Satsuki suffers it too, although less so, because she doesn’t live with Father’s expectations the way he does as the inheriting son. Aomine brings their family shame by neglecting his duties, while she brings shame on them by _ tending _ to those duties. When she speaks out of turn or wears improper dress, when she shows her sharp mind and _ acts as a man— _

Aomine thinks whoever came up with those rules just had small dick syndrome. It’s the only explanation that makes sense from where he’s standing, because anyone who wants to stifle such brilliance, keep his sister contained, they can only come from a place of jealousy.

It’s not usual for her to be invited to this type of outdoor public event, but she has a special tented area for her to sit on her own. Preferring to talk with her than to sit and listen to Hanamiya chatter at Father, Aomine has welcomed her over next to him, where she perches happily, overlooking the field. Father seems glad of her presence, but he doesn’t get the chance to speak to them, occupied with a million other kingly things— mainly by Hanamiya’s endless rattle. If Aomine didn’t know better, it was some long spell of sorcerer’s incantations that only held power as long as he kept fucking talking— 

Aomine… He knows Father loves them both very, very much. Knows it from the way he spoils them to bits. But there are times when being king is more important than being their father. It’s a push and pull that Aomine can’t seem to find a balance in sometimes. He can’t say he’s not used to it, because it’s how he’s grown up, but this strange limbo leaves him with a sense of dissatisfaction. Living as his father’s treasured son in private, but failing to reach the high expectations placed on the king’s prince. He doesn’t know when he gets to just be himself...  
  
And what has he done to cope with it all— _ ignored it. _ It’s what he’s learned to do. He’d rather keep sleeping through morning affairs, keep screwing around pointlessly like he has all the time in the world, he wants to continue his free lifestyle instead of shouldering the responsibility the king wishes to bestow upon him. He doesn’t like the weight of those expectations. 

One day— one day he’ll shape up and be a better son.

For now he’s content as he is, keeping everyone’s expectations low. If no one expects anything of him, he can’t disappoint them past a point. When he lets everyone down, at least they won’t be surprised.

_ Satsuki’s the one who pays attention— _ he thinks. _ She’s the one who actually cares. _

He’s jokingly said to her before, _ ‘What if we just got married?’ _ It might get everyone off his back, for politics’ sake. But things are never that easy. There are too many other factors at play.

It’s mid-afternoon by this point and Aomine is lost in daydreams, eyes aimlessly roving the polo field. Waiting until he’s completely zoned out, Hanamiya takes advantage and leans around the king to smile at Satsuki, showing his teeth. When he catches her attention, she looks back uncertainly as he meets her gaze with a steady lascivious stare. 

Hanamiya licks his teeth, eyebrows raised, then bites his lip. Finally, he sticks his tongue out. She shudders, disgusted.

Aomine turns when he sees her pull her robe across her breast and wrap herself up, though the summer air is hot as an oven. Taking a bite of a pear, he glances over to see where she’s sending that sour look, because it’s not like her to glare, and sees Hanamiya with a gross smile on his face.

He bolts up and whips the pear in his hand at him, but Hanamiya ducks, grinning. Overcome with murderous rage, Aomine shoots up straight and lunges for something else to throw, a spiky shelled durian, and hucks it, but Hanamiya dodges again, cackling. Father looks over and Aomine puts his arm around Satsuki, moving her to his other side and glaring ferociously. 

Hanamiya laughs, stoking his temper enough that he puffs up and looks for something else to throw— He’d throw the water vase, he’d throw the whole damn table, but Father’s watching.

Seething, Aomine moves Satsuki to the seclusion of the shade, sitting beneath the tent canopy with her, keeping himself between them so that she doesn’t have to look at him and he can’t look at her, the fucking wretch— 

She doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even scold him to keep calm and let it go as she usually would. Instead she looks cast down and vaguely humiliated, which rips Aomine up and enrages him anew. Hanamiya seems to get off on the whole thing, her disgust, Aomine’s fury, Father’s ignorance— he’s infuriatingly smug about it.

_ ‘You scum, you louse, I’ll have your head, I’ll see you flayed alive, lick your lips at her again, see if I don’t—’ _He seems to enjoy getting a rise out of Aomine, because he huffs and puffs and goes on blustering with renewed vigor.

Dad’s trying to watch the game, and is vaguely nodding along to his speech. Satsuki pays polite attention, casting favor on the leading team and their sturdy soldiers. Aomine feels irked, wants to wipe that smug look off Hanamiya’s face— How has this day gone so rotten. 

Perhaps most bothersome of all is the unhappy pit that still swells in his chest as he wonders, where can his cobbler be?

He wants to be with Kagami, walk with him in the garden, talk with him, take in his sweet face once more. Ask the question that’s burning in his soul— _ was I mistaken, can you possibly feel the same for me, oh please say it’s true— _

His loving gesture, a heart sewn into his slipper, Aomine wants to repay Kagami the joy that his affection has brought him, load him up with jewels and gold dinars, put rings and bracelets on his arms, deck his hair with jade, try to match one _ tenth _of that affection with material wealth, meet his sentiment with treasures. Show him that his heart is returned— and if only he could see him once more, Aomine would reward him beyond measure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reward him with a wedding ring, you fool


	13. The Mighty One Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exit: Fool. Enter: Villain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've seen the movie you absolutely know what's coming.
> 
> Run boy run.

None among the spectators of the polo game, not the royal family, not the nobles and courtiers, not the common subjects eagerly crowded in, none of them notice the tiny figure scurrying around the polo field on foot.

Kuroko’s gotten himself into it again.

When he’d busted out that window, he’d managed not to hurt himself on his way down, falling gracefully down a cypress tree and into some soft bushes. Having picked the broken glass from his coat, shaken his whirling head, and having soon forgotten his failed attempt at shoe-napping from the poor sod he’d already screwed over earlier, Kuroko wandered out through the gardens and onto what he didn’t realize was a playing field.

He meanders aimlessly, confused as to where he’s ended up. He can’t even see the minaret from here. It must be on the other side of the palace. How will he get over there... He continues toddling about on a meadow of soft grass and flowers until he notices, rolling past him, just past his feet, is a glittering white sphere.

_'Whoa, what is that? _ _ Helloooo beautiful—' _

Crouching closer in confusion, he creeps after it as it rolls. A giant pearl? An opal? 

Transfixed by its shimmering surface, he follows its gentle rolling, not hearing the thundering hooves converging on him, louder and louder, _closer and closer— _and just as he realizes, _'I think.... I think this is a polo ball—' _he receives a sudden _ whallop _to the face, cracked by a wooden mallet and miraculously avoiding a shattered jawbone.

He and the ball go _flying_ and the horses run past as he hits the ground with a _whump,_ chasing after the ball, not noticing him at all.

_'Well—!'_

Kuroko picks himself up and dusts himself off, and finds after a few disgruntled paces that the ball has come his way again. For a moment he stands there blinking at it, fingers clenching in temptation, but this time he shakes his head and cautiously creeps away from it.

But it rolls after him, following at his heels.

_'Damn, you thirsty bitch, will you fuck off—?'_

Panicking when he hears the horses coming back around, he breaks into a run, but it's as if the ball is chasing him, rolling after him down the hill. Hoofbeats pound behind him and he pants for breath, sprinting as hard as he can, but he can't outpace the horses, and _crack—! _ He flies into the air and then splats pathetically to the ground.

Feeling battered and harassed, Kuroko spends some time running in the same manner as the horses chase him from hill to hill.

Finally, in desperation, he spies a rabbit hole and dives in, crawling down in the dark confined space, feeling smug and safe as the hoofs thunder past overhead, enough so that he lets out a sigh of relief.

Which is just when the white ball rolls down into the hole and rests in his lap.

Panicking, he hears the sound of the horses galloping back, and he tries to fling the ball away, but it's no use_— WHACK! _He’s given an almighty slug to the gut and is shot into the air amid flying sod and dirt and roots and grass. He soars out of the hole and lands in the forked limb of a tree and the horsemen race away below. 

Now Kuroko is an innocent soul and certainly hasn't done a single thing in his lowly life to deserve such a senseless beating, surely any reasonable person could see that. So of course he's quite satisfied to find himself perched in a tree, safe from any more undeserved ball torture.

Of course, one would _think_ he’d be safe up here. But the ball, also airborne from the heavy strike, whether by some convenient gust of wind or by the same mysterious force that causes all the rest of Kuroko's freak luck_— _that ball flies through the air and lands on the branch next to him, balancing there.

_'Are you kidding me.' _

Instead of smacking it off the branch and out of his life, Kuroko backs up, determined not to touch it, a vapid silly mind already conditioned to associate the painful slap of a wooden mallet with the sparkly white ball. He shimmies backward along the limb, down the tree trunk, and feels safe for a second on the solid ground, not realizing the ball has dropped down behind him for a moment until it hits his heel with a gentle bump.

_'Oh no, not this time.' _

Panting, Kuroko hears the sound of the horses as he bolts off at breakneck speed, racing down the hill, the ball following in hot pursuit as though by magnetic force. The horses thunder behind him and he tears forward as hard as he can, but _thwack— _he’s shot over a hill into the greenery.

_ Thwack! Thock! WHAM—! _He’s hit from hill to hill, no one ever noticing that they’re hitting a _ guy _ around the field along with the polo ball.

_'Oh sweet Anu, please make it stop. Whatever I did, I’m sorry! Help me and I probably won’t steal anything for a day or two— okay, maybe I can make it the next eleven minutes...'_

A ray of late afternoon sun lights up the three golden balls on the ancient minaret, their radiant glow shining down on the idyllic scene, the royal tents, the beautiful green polo field and the well-groomed ponies that dance atop it, the glittering palace, and the golden city sprawling below.

Far beneath the splendors of the kingdom above, down in the bowels of the dungeon, an unfortunate cobbler whose luck has changed too many times in a day peers out of a tiny barred opening. 

Kagami’s hands grip tight to the bars and work back and forth on them with a small file, grinding determinedly at them despite the screaming pain in his wrists. It’s not doing much but he saws at them with vigor. He can hear the vizier out there going on and on as he looks out on the summertime scene, the legend of the golden balls on the minaret. Kagami can see them from his cell, glittering on the tallest peak in the city.

“The golden land thrives under your wise leadership, O King. How lucky are your subjects to enjoy such a beauteous evening! Your empire will surely thrive for generations, thanks to the protection of the ancient golden balls—”

Kagami looks up at them. Heavy drops of gold capping the spire of the minaret, glimmering and gleaming in the sunshine, jewels on the horizon of a great sprawling city, an oasis of sparkling rivers, green gardens, and golden fields within a vast baking desert. The Golden Land may never have been his home, but he always did think that spire was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. The capstone to paradise.

And unknown to the inhabitants of the peaceful city, over the darkening foothills of the mountain, the orange light of the evening sun glows in the valleys of the snowcapped mountains. Beyond those mountains, over the endless stretch of sand, leagues and leagues away, through forests of looming black pine, past towering salt deposits and pillars of stone, tiered heaps of sand, summer thunderstorms pass below. In that faraway land, the azure of the evening sky and the luminous sunlit clouds transform, the breadth and magic of nature turning into something dark and unspeakable where the sand and sky are red and the mountains are black.

In a distant unknown plane, vultures veer towards a crevasse, circling and leading through the twists and turns of a great canyon, towards the sounds of death. Dying soldiers litter the expanse, lit by the final rays of the sunset.

A mountain of heaped corpses, a groaning pile of horses, elephants, and bloodied men are riddled with arrows and spear wounds. Surrounding the mound of carnage are huge hulking beasts of men in armor as black as the glistening night. Every one of them has one eye closed, as if they are permanently taking aim with a bow and arrow. The other eye stares open, unblinking and bloodshot.

Atop the mound of corpses, the mighty One Eye Akashi stands, holding a flagpole staked into a corpse beneath his metal boots, the war banner emblazoned with the ghastly one eye emblem on the fluttering canvas cracking in the wind behind him against a blood-red sky.

War elephants saddled with spikes are lined up behind the circle of his throng of warriors, enclosing the corpse heap. And Akashi’s pride and joy, a vast behemoth of steel and iron, the War Machine, glitters ominously in the red light of the dusk.

“One Eyes! One Eyes win again!” he roars, and the surrounding army thunders back.

Vultures flutter down to the mountainous pile of bodies that sprawls the sands, the corpses piled and layered, sprouting arrows like the stalks of flowers. They tear into the meat, baking and putrid from the day’s carnage.

“The day of death has come to the Golden Land! One Eye has destroyed the frontier guard!” Akashi proclaims.

_ “One-Eye—! One-Eye—! One-Eye—!” _ his army echoes back, a humongous and homogenous crowd of black and red and purple, moving and speaking as one, a rolling sea of death.

“Now we march on the Golden City! And I shall _conquer_ the Golden City!” Akashi booms, slow and commanding. They scream back in approval. 

“No one is left alive to warn them!”

Unseen by One Eye Akashi, unseen by any of the wandering horde of barbarians, the scourge of the desert hills, wriggles a single person in the mountain of corpses. Their bodies are so numerous they have become the ground, a vast plane of flayed backs and chests that are poked with arrows and spears like some huge pincushion.

A small soldier studded with arrows, stabbed through the chest with a battle flag, crawls towards a terrified horse that stands upon the landscape of bodies, the ground spongy with flesh. The sole surviving frontier guard looks like a porcupine, arrows jutting from his back as he struggles to pull himself up by the horse's stirrup and climb onto the saddle.

_ “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” _he hisses. “Hold still, god damn you—”

“I shall trample and break them, and not show pity!” One Eye Akashi screams, a tiny but imposing figure atop the pile of carnage. His voice pierces through the valley. The soldier shudders.

The horse trots from the wreckage, over the desert and into the darkness of the night, the haze of death and the fervor of their bloodlust echoing behind them. The soldier rides into the blue plates of stone of the canyon, galloping off unseen as the last ray of sun fades, traveling into the deep ravine.

An ominous thundering cry in the night sends shivers up the back off a dying man, riding as fast as he can to the city of paradise, jewel of the desert. 

_   
“No man escapes the Mighty One Eye!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The Three Gold Balls](https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/villainstournament/images/4/47/The_Minaret_%28The_Thief_and_the_Cobbler%29.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20181021155134)
> 
> [Seige of the Frontier Guard by the One Eyes](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7sTK6soCsz8/ULeIZ2zpmYI/AAAAAAAAArg/JB_97bm3lCI/s1600/WarMachine.jpg)
> 
> if you need a laugh, watch the [polo ponies scene.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J2Ek-Tccmlk) (color quality is low in this clip, but I've chosen it bc it includes a portion at the start with ZigZag that didn't make it into mark 4 for some reason??) Or if you'd rather wait to watch the whole recobbled cut once the fic is over, that's up to you too! 
> 
> I just love this whole fucking sequence, like. The hilarity of Thief just getting his ass ruthlessly beat while ZigZag monologues about shit no one cares about, it's peak comedy. And then the immediate transition to the One Eye siege border camp is a fucking amazing piece of animation.
> 
> Please also watch [this clip](https://youtu.be/DMRBC7sQkkk?t=538) for that. (Start at 9:00 for whole polo ponies scene with the proper audio and zigzag's dialogue, or start at 12:20 for the transition to the One Eyes and One Eye's intro speech.) It was hard to do this part justice through simply writing it, I did my best.
> 
> Honestly, now that I've seen those scenes side by side, i think they're supposed to be parallels, because during One Eye's speech and ZigZag's speeches, we have some comedic nonsense going on in the background that makes it hard to pay attention to what they're saying. 😂   
Also, I realize once you see the real One Eye, it's hard to take tiny Akashi seriously as One Eye, so please proceed with caution.


	14. The World Is Mine To Take!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanamiya wickedly schemes in the company of his feathered minion.

Through the valleys and peaks, back through the summer storm, through the waterfalls and forests, an orange moon rises over the desert and whitens to a crystal silver, shining down on the silver-capped clouds that pass over the valley. Far below, the starlit Golden City sleeps.

Towering over the sleeping city, lit by early stars and the large round moon, hulks a tall minaret of dark stone with a winding staircase, a turret whose peak gapes and yawns like the mouth of a vulture. The eyes of the vulture are lit like great searchlights, windows glowing with roaring candle-flame within.

In the gullet of the bird lay Hanamiya’s lair.

The walls are covered with maps, the room is crammed full with tables full of flasks and beakers, books, and the whole place is crammed with astrological and occult paraphernalia. Perched on a world globe is a hulking pet vulture. Its feathers are mangy, its body is skinny and haggard with the swollen stomach of a starving creature. The vulture snoozes as Hanamiya paces.

The city sleeps, but Hanamiya is awake.

He stands at the window and grins, staring down at the moonlit city. This city— soon it will be his.

He gives the globe a violent spin and the vulture squawks, shooting off and slamming into the wall. It then flaps dizzily back and lights on a large hourglass.

“Oh Phido, how can you sleep, it’s almost time!” The hourglass spills a thin stream of sand beneath the bird’s assfeathers. “... Time that _ I _ shall take command of the Golden City.”

Hanamiya’s brilliant plan has been going swimmingly. The aging king, who needs to rely on his worthless layabout son more and more, the spoiled childish prince who neglects to take command— in Prince Daiki’s absence, the king relies heavily on his vizier, who, unbeknownst to him, is treacherous.

“I’ve buttered that old fool up, getting into his good graces, and soon—” he cooes, scratching the sleeping vulture’s chin. When he turns his back, it hisses at him.

“The poor lost unconscious soul is too stupid to suspect.”

Holding out his wand, the vulture perches on the end, allowing him to carry it with him towards a map. “Soon I will control the Golden Land and all its wealth. Even now, I control so many of this country’s affairs with an unseen hand, in my cleverness—” Were there any others to witness it, they’d swear an oath they saw the vulture roll its eyes.

Hanamiya sets the staff atop a brazier filled with red coals and the poor bird’s backside catches flame. It squawks and flaps its huge wings, going flying off in a panic through the room, crashing through measuring tools and implements and books. It tips over a huge pot of ink and spills it across the floor, inadvertently putting out its feathers.

“The prince may scorn me now,” Hanamiya growls, “but I shall only put up with the indignity for a little longer. A passing thing—”

He plucks a quill from Phido’s tail, already inked in the puddle. “... For soon, I shall take the princess as my wife. We'll see who has the last laugh then when I have his sister in my bed.”

On the wall before him in the flickering flame, inside a mosaiced alcove, is a full-figure painting of Princess Satsuki, unveiled and provocative. A picture of the prince beside it is peppered with darts. 

Hanamiya takes the quill and scrawls a huge spider across her body, cackling. 

He will flatter the king so much he'll outwit him with his genius. He’ll invent a problem and step in with the solution, and the king will reward him for his services. And Hanamiya— he will ask for his daughter’s hand.

If he marries Satsuki, he will gain even more influence in the empire. It must be her, because it’s not as if he can marry Prince Daiki— _ “Feh’.” _ Or perhaps he can marry them both, he thinks with a cackle, imagining the look on the little bastard’s stupid face. 

Hanamiya knows the one person who’s suspicious of him is the prince, who isn’t quite as stupid as he likes to pretend. He’s very aware of the sway Hanamiya has over the king, but Hanamiya knows even he is oblivious to the depths of his treachery. He tries to make Hanamiya’s life difficult by humiliating and scorning him, but he’s just a silly and immature boy who resents the neglect of his father and is jealous of Hanamiya’s influence over the king.

The prince has been playing this stupid game like a foolish child, thinking he’s won, but what he doesn’t know is that Hanamiya’s just been biding his time.

Soon. Soon, he will marry the princess— and the little princesses, he’ll marry them too, as many as possible.

And the princes. He shall kill every last one. Starting with Prince Daiki.

He’s spent long enough trying to marry off the difficult little shit, tried to distract him with wives and women, but he’s resisted, infuriating him with this silly game of his. Well, Hanamiya's patience has run dry. If Prince Daiki will not wed within the year, Hanamiya will poison him.

And once the prince is dispatched and the king is weak with grief, Princess Satsuki will be defenseless. 

He’ll wait for the king to succumb to old age, and then the sun will set on the Aomine Empire. Once the men in the family are gone, King Aomine and Prince Daiki in the grave, Hanamiya will kill off all the little boys, and the rest of the women will be left to him. The Golden Land in all its wealth will be _ his. _

“With Princess Satsuki as my wife, the crown is mine.” He throws the quill at the painting, and it lands like a dart on her breast. He bursts into obscene laughter.

The vulture registers disgust, beak in the air quite snootily. Hanamiya notices him suddenly, and he perks up.

“How could I forget you, my pet. I haven’t fed you, have I.”

Phido flaps his wings and jumps on Hanamiya’s shoulder, flapping and hissing. Hanamiya laughs and they head down the tower, twisting and turning down the long set of spiraling steps.

“I have a treat in store—” he cackles.

“Take care of the cobbler for me, won’t you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, that Hanamiya! You leave Kagami alone! Hurry and rescue him, Aomine!
> 
> This part, although largely unfinished, has some beautiful animation clips and has one of ZigZag's best dialogue sequences. He speaks only in rhyme, it's badass. If you wanna' watch it after reading, here you are: [Tower Scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QPt0p13SRKM)
> 
> Also... two plot chapters without our favorite lovers, what is this?! Please have a triple update tonight as a reward for patiently reading through the plot heavy parts. Let's see what Prince Daiki is up to—


	15. Stop, Thief!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Daiki hatches the perfect plan to keep Kagami in the palace with him. He then receives a surprise visitor.

Blissfully unaware of the evil plot being hatched against his family and the man he hopes will become his beau, in the cool night of the palace garden lay a spoiled and lazy prince, living a charmed life.

His rooms in the hall have grown tiresome. His rooms in the terraced palace turret have grown weary. Tonight he takes his rest in the garden, outside under the stars beneath a canopy of silk to ward off insects from daring to nip his bare skin. 

His room lay in a courtyard of white marble, decked with terraces of painted white wood grown thick with sprawling rose vines that crawl up to perfume the evening mist, lush flowers raveled into the wooden ladder. A white tent caps a dais, a humongous carving of a peacock decorating the marble wall behind it. A ruby-jeweled incense burner hangs above from the roof of the tent, spicing the air and warding off mosquitos. The tent is crested with white feathers, and beneath, a blue and bronze spot of color stains a bed so luxurious and so monstrous that it almost covers the dais completely. It’s round, a pure-white pouf, soft as satin, cushioning Prince Daiki as he lays out beneath the starry night sky.

He has many lavish treasures in the palace. Gems and gold dinars, jewelry, tiny trinkets and animal figurines made of gold and stones worth more than a lifetime’s labor. His whole life consists of beautiful women, beautiful scenery, delicious food. It’s endless leisure— smoking, playing, masturbating when he pleases, sleeping to his heart’s content.

But perhaps his favorite of his possessions are the most obnoxious display of wealth: his clothes— and his shoes.

Silk slippers to hug feet that have never touched the rough gravel of a city street, feet that have slid on marble and lush grass and vibrant carpets since his birth. His soles are soft as that of a baby who’s not yet learned to walk. His shoes, sewn with golden threads, each pair a unique set, are his favorites.

And tonight, Aomine sits up in his bed of snow-white feather down, clad in indigo-dyed silk pajamas with every pair of his priceless shoes brought from his wardrobe laid out before him. He takes each pair one by one and breaks all his jeweled slippers in half, snapping the leather soles, tearing the golden threads and silk fibers and stacking the broken pieces in a pile.

Finally, he takes his last shoes, his satin bed slippers, and rips them in half.

He doesn’t mourn the loss one bit, to see his prized possessions rended into a useless heap. 

He does keep one intact, however— the one left behind in his room on the carpet, adorned with an embroidered golden heart. 

Aomine’s cooked up a plan. If he can supply an endless amount of broken shoes, then that sweet boy, precious Kagami, will have an excuse to stay in the palace. It will last Aomine until he can speak to Father and have Kagami taken on as a palace craftsman. If he breaks all his shoes, he’ll have a big stack of excuses for Kagami to remain. Then Aomine can see him again.

Heart still aflutter with that beautiful feeling set ablaze within him this morning, the thrill and warmth of young love, he’s carried away by daydreams with the innocence of a child longing for his heart’s desire, a spoiled boy who’s never known disappointment or learned patience.

He's sure he'll be teased to no end by Satsuki, and the courtiers will talk, but what does he care if he has Kagami to sit and talk with, if he has Kagami to make him laugh. Inappropriate or not to make a companion out of a commoner, Aomine won't be denied the joy of Kagami's company.

A foolish and silly prince, his head is unburdened with doubts. He’s confident he’ll see Kagami again tomorrow, somehow. Kagami can sew beautiful pictures into each shoe, adorn every one with a token of love— and Aomine will try to woo him in return, ask him to stay at his side. Perhaps he's being a bit sentimental, but give him a little slack, he hasn't gotten the chance before now. In any case, Satsuki would laugh her head off if she could hear him now, her bored and lazy brother, so adamantly uninterested in marriage not a day before, reduced to mooning desperately over a street boy.  
  
Aomine yawns, tiring.

He lounges back and stretches his arms, then turns to rest his head on a plush ornamental pillow, long and cylindrical with tassels at the ends. He settles in the warm night air, wrapping his hands into his robe, the voluminous sleeves covering his hands as he cups the slipper decorated by his sweetheart close to him. He settles on his side and shuts his eyes, dreaming sweet dreams.

And as he falls asleep, he doesn’t see the little head poking in through the tear-drop shaped opening in the rose terrace, greedy little eyes spying his jeweled shoes, ornamental jutti and silk slippers, useless and torn to bits, but glittering with discarded gold and gems. 

_'What have we here—' _

Kuroko, having recovered from his beating at the hands of the polo ponies, is pleased with himself to have found an unguarded courtyard, a tent where a person sleeps alone on a gigantic pouf bed. It’s the middle of the night and he’s still out thieving on the palace grounds, because in this house, dumb-bitch hours have only just begun.

Staring eyes glowing in the starlight, Kuroko shimmies through the opening and approaches through the garden, creeping across the marble courtyard and up the steps, testingly placing one little hand in the white pouf. It sinks down into the plush surface as he crawls onto it and pushes himself to a stand. 

His feet sink down as he creeps and crawls and staggers and sways through the luxurious bed towards the pile of snapped shoe pieces and the back of the sleeping prince, his tall tan body laid out on its side in an elegant curve.

Kuroko bends and reaches out, quiet as a mouse, scooping the pile towards him, taking the whole lot of them into his coat— _ hah, sucker— _then promptly turns to sneak off.

The sleeping man, _ that defenseless fool _doesn’t even stir. Kuroko carefully steps his way through the bed back the way he came.

All of a sudden, the bed’s surface begins to rattle and rumble beneath him. It’s moving right under his feet, and rises up, and Kuroko, unable to make sense of what he’s seeing for a second, comes face to face with a humongous snarling maw stacked with steak knives for teeth, each of them as long as his forearm, surely.

It’s a gigantic snow-white beast, raising its hackles and glaring into his face with black beady eyes. Kuroko gulps.

_ Fuck? _

The prince makes his bed on the snow white-fur of the backs of fucking ravenous guard wolves, _ holy _ _ Ištaran__, that’s insane— _

Petrified, Kuroko sees another head, and another, _ a dozen, _they all lift and swivel towards him, growling and snarling, _ nice doggie— _He runs for it, leaping through their necks and onto the ground. They snap at his heels and he panics, bolting for the exit.

Awakened by the growling, the prince confusedly picks his head up, sitting up and rousing quickly at the sight of the retreating thief.

“Hey!” he shouts, but Kuroko is already gone. “Stop!” he cries out into the night, enraged and distraught as a thief makes off with something precious. 

_ “Stop! Thief!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> down, nigou.
> 
> [early concept art of this scene](https://66.media.tumblr.com/c97372c95a03bfa5514c5b7cb0115062/tumblr_pa2q8zSNhX1w49lylo4_500.jpg) [other half](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/5c/07/ca/5c07ca331bb4f60bb53d983a0b0c72f8.jpg)


	16. Oh Fffff-Phido!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanamiya soothes the old king from a terrible premonition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone had happy holidays and a good new year. Happy 2020!

A sunbeam pours past a severed bar in a dungeon cell window, shining down on a golden slipper which a sleeping boy lazily stitches into his shirt.

Sewing in his sleep, Kagami curls up on the cell floor when the sunlight of the early dawn wakes him. Sitting up, groggy and unrested, he tries to work the kinks out of his back and discovers the stitched slipper.

He gives a deep sigh, grumbling, and starts to unpick the slipper from his chest. 

Stomach growling, Kagami sits and sulks, wondering how much longer he’ll be kept in here. Perhaps until the prince forgets about him, so that Hanamiya won’t get in trouble when he’s executed.

Maybe. Hopefully he’ll just be banished— or sold as a slave or something.

His goal now is to get out with his life, a low bar, but that’s that. It saddens him, because he would’ve liked to see Prince Daiki again. There’s nothing to be done about that though. Once he’s safely home in his shop, fast asleep on the floor, collapsed there in exhaustion, he'll use that afternoon of wild romance to comfort himself, the sweet memory of a wonderful, wonderful dream.

A mouse scurries over his foot and he pulls it back, then looks up when he hears someone coming.

_ ‘Oh shit—’ _

He quickly climbs his makeshift ladder to the window and replaces the broken bar, then leaps down and pulls his knees up to his chest, trying to look unassuming and innocent. Nothing to see here... No future escapee-hopefuls in these cells...

The door slot shoots open with a clack. A bloodshot eye peeks through the hole, and Kagami gulps. _ Oh god— is this it? _

“Oh, you’re in luck, Phido, he has a lot of meat on his bones for one so poor!” 

A huge vulture is staring into his cell, looking ravenous. One big beady eye looks at Kagami, sizing him up, the other eye staring back at Hanamiya, who holds the vulture up to the window. Cackling, Hanamiya unlocks the door and urges, “Go on, eat him up, my flying garbage can—”

Fuck, he’d thought he’d be flayed or beheaded or something, or have a hand cut off, but eaten alive by a vulture is a possibility he hadn’t considered. Heart pounding hard, Kagami stands up and braces himself. The hissing vulture’s wingspan is too broad to fit through the door, and it scrabbles there and beats its wings against the doorframe, spitting and cawing and sticking its neck out towards him as far as it can go. Kagami heaves up the heavy iron ball into his arms, because oh _ fuck _ no, vultures are supposed to eat _ corpses, _not living humans!

_ ‘Fuck OFF—!’ _

He raises the iron ball up as high as he can, holding it above his head on wobbly arms, and then lets it slam down at the vulture’s head in an attempt to bean it, but it darts back in time. The ball hits the stone floor with a _clang,_ the blow rattling up through the chain and into his leg. He stares into the vulture's pitiful gaping beak as it struggles for him, its deafening squawks echoing in the tiny room. 

Fuck, what a nightmare—

Meanwhile, far away in the comforts of the castle above, the palace sleeps, oblivious to its' lowly prisoner's plight. 

Princess Satsuki sweetly dreams. Prince Daiki, having moved inside after a run-in with a thief in the garden, catches up on his missed hour of sleep. And in the king’s chambers, the king sleeps fitfully.

He tosses and turns as horrible visions come to him. Vultures, so many vultures, landing upon dead bodies that pepper the earth. A dying soldier rides, galloping as hard as he can on an exhausted horse, and behind him, the faces of one-eyed men crest the hill— the horrible face of Mighty One Eye Akashi rises above the rest.

The frantic hoofbeats build and build to a terrible crescendo, _ and then— _

King Aomine bolts awake with a sharp jolt, frozen in fright, sweating all over. He shouts aloud, terror gripping his old heart. 

“Hanamiya!” he cries, voice weak with panic. “Send for Hanamiya! Immediately!”

The king’s aged manservant standing vigil at the bedside claps his wrinkled hands together, and a guard in the door arch marches off with a gong, banging it and singing out, _ “The king wants Hanamiya— Immediately!_”

Hanamiya, still down in the dungeon, is taking pleasure in watching his bird flap excitedly at a cell door, terrorizing the boy inside who’s desperately trying to fend off his starving pet. It's getting good and he’s in no mood to be interrupted.

He cackles, but stops as the call of the guards reach him, singing through the palace and down the corridors and the halls and through the windows, the echo traveling all the way to the dungeon.

_ “Hanamiya—! Hanamiya—! Hanamiya—! The king wants Hanamiya—! Now—!” _

Are you _ kidding _me.

All pleasure disappears from his face, and he puffs up with rage. “Fuck!” he curses, yanking his bird back by a leash on its neck and slamming the cell door shut. 

“Your breakfast will have to wait, Phido,” he grumbles as he hurries off up the prison steps, leaving the pitiful bird to its own devices. “Coming, your majesty!”

Kagami wipes his brow in a sigh of relief as he hears his tormentor leave. He sits back on the bench, but he can hear the bird out there scratching and thumping at the door, still trying to get in and bite him. It keeps it up for ages, shrieking in agony—

_ ‘That makes two of us.’ _

Kagami holds his howling stomach, which starts to quake again when the adrenaline filters out. Honestly, if he could get out there with that crazy vulture, it’d be a fight of who eats who at this point.

As soon as he has the strength, he scrambles up on shaky legs and starts vigorously sawing at the other window bar with urgency. 

He is _ so _ not sticking around for this bullshit. He didn’t belong here anyways, and had only ended up here by complete happenstance. It’s a dangerous place for a commoner to hang around. He’d only been there a few hours before he'd fallen into the gravity-well of palace intrigue.

He hopes at least that Prince Daiki doesn’t think too badly of him for not taking him up on his invitation.   
  


Above the dungeon Kagami fitfully struggles to escape from, out in the high-walled palace courtyard, a little thief sneaks out of a dark alley in the early morning, sleepless and with dark circles under his eyes, but smug, with pockets stuffed with shoe bits. They’ll probably get tossed to make room for better loot very soon, but sometimes it’s not about the value, it’s about the rush of swiping shit. This palace is packed with goodies.

And here comes the best part. The thing he’s come for— 

He’s up and about, moving unimpeded while the city still sleeps. The sun is just cresting the horizon, it’s maybe five o'clock, or just before. The courtyard tiles are purple with the shadow of the early dawn. The crescent moon of perpetual summer shares the sky with the sun, which sparkles on the very tip of the minaret, lighting up three sparkling beads of pure gold.  
  
Kuroko freezes in an archway, staring at the sky. The minaret lay before him in the center of the courtyard, its ancient foundation beginning to sink into the sand beneath on one side and lean the tower to the side slightly. The cap of the spire is supported by wires that are attached to beams in the surrounding buildings and the other newer minarets.

The three gold balls gleam in the pale sun of the dawn, glittering and reflecting in vacant blue eyes.

_ ‘This time…’ _

Kuroko sneaks back into the shadows, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. This time no one’s here to stop him. And who would suspect?

_ ‘Ooh, how about this—‘ _

He strips a flag off a long wooden pole, clasps it in his hands, and then smiles. He’s so fucking smart.

As the tiles and bricks of the courtyard turn red as the dawn warms into day, he squares himself up in front of the minaret and backs up, readying himself. Then he takes a swift inhale and breaks into a run. He begins his approach, taking aim with the pole, gaining speed as he runs, feet pattering on the tile.

He’s almost there now, almost there, _he’s there—_ he races to the base of the minaret, but runs past it, straight into the wall. The pole strikes the brick, and he ends up pronging himself in the stomach with the back end of the pole. He hops around in silent agony, flopping over, the pole clattering to the ground.

_ ‘Fuck— No one saw that, right?’ _

  
Oblivious to the fuckery going on in the courtyard below, Hanamiya enters the king’s chambers with a flourish, where King Aomine sits grinding his jaw, anguished and fretting, clearly lost in the grips of some terrible dream.

Hanamiya inwardly groans, irritated. He’s been summoned to comfort an old fool who’d smoked too much and cooked up a nightmare. Nevertheless, he puts on his best smile.

“My king, fear not,” Hanamiya soothes, coming to the king’s side as he mutters in despair. “What troubles you, your highness.”

“Death and destruction,” King Aomine whispers, crazy-eyed, whipped into a delirium of fear. “My kingdom will come to destruction and death—” 

Oh Balthazar, he’s completely lost his kingly composure, having devolved into undignified raving. However, Hanamiya does recognize the words of the prophecy on the king’s lips.

“You must calm yourself, your majesty,” he insists. “What brings forth such terrible words?”

“I’ve had a nightmare— No, a vision!” the king bursts, and Hanamiya frowns, skeptical. King Aomine’s usually calm and level-headed countenance is frenzied with worry. “The kingdom will be invaded by a race of one-eyed men. The One Eyes and a horrible machine!”

“One-eyed invaders,” Hanamiya chortles. “That goes against the prophecy, your grace. Are we not safe within this city as long as the three golden balls are on the minaret?” He takes the king’s shoulder, turns him, and gestures out the window to the gold balls, sparkling on the minaret's peak. 

This old fool, babbling about nothing—

He angrily pushes Hanamiya away, causing him to smile a tense, irritated smile that he has to fight down, forcing his shoulders to settle. King Aomine takes a few steps, hands at his troubled brow.

"If the One Eyes were to come here..."

"The One Eyes- There have been no scouts to report seeing those apes anywhere near our lands!"

“The prophecy says if the balls are ever taken away, the city will fall to destruction and death!” Hanamiya comes to his side and tries to lead him back to bed, an arm around him. “What if the balls are taken away before the One Eyes arrive?!” He throws Hanamiya to the side in his ranting. Hanamiya gets the breath coughed out of him, and grumbles under his breath. The things he has to deal with.

“They cannot be taken away, your highness!” he insists, raising his voice. “Steal the balls from under our noses, where all could see?” he scoffs, which seems to start to make the old fool doubt his vision.

“Besides—” Hanamiya dismisses, completely confident.

“What freak of nature could ever get up to the top of that minaret?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kuroko: owo


	17. The Balls Are Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thief makes his biggest mistake yet.

Fuck, Kagami’s hands are getting tired— and that’s saying something, because he works with his hands for a living.

His legs ache from strain and his feet are screaming out in pain from pressing the soles against on the nail ladder he’s made, pushing himself up at the windowsill. He’s made some progress about halfway through the second bar.

A new development: he’s been hearing this weird thumping and clattering noise coming from outside for a while now, audible even as he files wildly at the bars, the metal grinding sound echoing and rattling his teeth. He can’t figure out what the fuck it is.

His filing is actually working slowly but surely, so he keeps at it, but something weird is definitely happening in that courtyard over there, behind the high wall.

_ Thump— _

Kagami shakes his head and keeps filing. 

A few minutes later, he hears a loud _sproing,_ and looks upwards, and no shit, he sees what looks like…….. a_ guy, _flying through the air.

He flies in an arch, sailing right through the window of the ancient minaret, and then falls out of view behind the courtyard wall.

Kagami stares. No, that was definitely a guy. What the _ fuck? _ What is he even doing? _ How _is he doing that? What the fuck.

_ ‘...... Is he okay?’ _

Fuck, whatever the fuck he's doing, at least when the guards find that crazy drunkard, that’ll be Kagami’s cue to duck out.

  
Kuroko, the absolute ingrate, is having a grand time, sproinging the pole like a tuning fork as he flings himself up towards the peak of the minaret, landing with a thump. He runs faster, faster, faster— down goes the pole and he takes off in a perfect arc towards the top of the minaret. 

Just beneath its dome is a keyhole window that he flies through and straight out the other side, then hurtles down through the city, into an awning, ripping straight through and plummeting down below, ricocheting off awnings, dropping through clothes lines, and finally sliding down a long awning that glides him safely back to the courtyard, where he skitters dizzily into the shadows, startling some chickens.

Most people, after so many ill-advised, reckless attempts ending in failure and injury, would think, _ hm— y’know, maybe this isn’t working. _

But Kuroko’s not most people, and he’s really determined now.

He stuffs his coat into his pants and stretches, huffing and puffing, sizing up the minaret again with one eye closed. Then he takes off, off he goes, increasing speed, faster, faster— down goes the pole with a _clat_ and he lifts off in a graceful arc that swoops in his stomach. He makes a perfect approach to the top of the minaret and the gold balls.

He releases the pole and reaches out as he flies towards the balls, scrabbling for them, but soon realizes that he’s _ just _ too high this time, and he sails above them, grasping at thin air— _ rats. _

Kagami stares up from below, looking up and rubbing his eyes in disbelief. _ Fuck—? _

Wait.... _was that—? _

Here he goes again, bouncing off awnings, shooting across balustrades and zipping around corners as he’s thrown back and forth, through windows, shutters banging open and shut— all with a blank stare on his face. He lands on the same long awning as before, gliding down backwards to the ground. He shoots off the end, staggering and collapsing in the shadows of an alley with a smack. Chickens run amok, clucking in a burst of feathers.

_ Crazy motherfucker. _

Kagami shakes his head. That was definitely the same guy from yesterday. He’d recognize that disgusting coat and the hair-brained schemes anywhere. He has to wonder how the hell he’s still in the palace and hasn’t gotten caught and thrown out yet.

Filing away like mad, the bar finally gives way. Kagami pushes his head out the tiny opening and wiggles his way up, kicking his legs and pulling himself forward until he can squeeze out, dragging himself onto his front in the grass. He rolls and sits up, then heaves up the ball and chain, pulling it up hand over hand.

_ Clank— _

The ball gets to the top and then stops abruptly. He pulls on it a couple of times, staring at it with a growing frown. 

_ Clank-clank— _

It’s… too big for the window. His eyes pop open wide.

_ FUCK—! _

Kagami hangs onto the chain, foot braced on the iron window-frame as he looks around in panic. Oh, he’s in such deep shit if anyone sees him.

  
Not everyone cares about getting caught. Some of us are born with no fucking shame.

_ ‘It’s now or never, bitch—’ _

Kuroko’s made it up one of the smaller minarets that support the ancient minaret with guy-wires. He’s very high up now, climbing out the window and up onto the wire, using his pole as balance. The wind blows as he steps out. 

It would be smarter to cling onto the wire with his arms and legs like a monkey and shimmy across, but Kuroko’s never been very smart, executing the first half-baked plan that comes to mind with an undeserved and frightening efficacy, and then inevitably bungling said plan.

He grabs the wire with his toes, walking it like a tight-roper. 

It’s not as sturdy as he thought, stretching and swaying like elastic, wobbling beneath him. Bursts of wind billow his coat out, pulling at him, and he swings back and forth crazily as he tries to balance.

Fuck, run for it— 

He drops the pole, falling off the wire, but catches it with one hand and loops himself back aboard. He runs the length of it to the golden dome and wraps his arms around it. Not sparing a thought in his little head for the fact that he’d almost just died several times.

_ Yesssss— _

Far below, standing on the grass just outside the palace wall, Kagami looks around in panic, yanking on the chain and the heavy ball attached beneath. He kicks and tugs at the stones surrounding the window opening, stomping at the dirt and tugging. He bashes at the ball, but it just won’t come through.

Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck— He looks around frantically. Is anyone coming?

Kuroko stands above him, unaware, staring up with sparkly eyes at the gold balls. He’s finally reached them. 

Straightening up, he slithers and slides his way up to the top of the curved dome. He gets up the slippery thing, then pulls himself up on the thin pointy spire, standing triumphantly. The wind feels magnificent, birds flying past him in confusion. 

The view is spectacular. 

Okay, no time to waste. 

He hikes the smallest golden ball off the spire with both hands. It comes right off, and then drops, heavy as a stone, and he staggers forward to keep his grip on it as it hits the metal dome with a clang. It’s much heavier than he’d expected, solid gold— 

Kuroko picks himself up, holding the ball between his knees and glancing at the palace before him, a beautiful central view of the grand building. In fact, he thinks he can see straight in the main balcony window.  
  
And inside that window, Hanamiya has calmed King Aomine, leading the old man back to his bed, reassuring him. “No reason to fret,” he insists.

“It’s been foretold by the sages that as long as the balls are not taken away, we are safe.”

“Yes,” King Aomine agrees reluctantly, still very rattled. Hanamiya has managed to soothe his nerves and convince him to smoke a hookah and then go back to sleep.

“I suppose, but… I just have this funny feeling.”

Just outside the window, the minaret glimmers, and Kuroko is flat on his back against the curve of the dome.

He’s taken all three of the balls off, each heavier than the last and hitting the dome with a loud echoing clang. He has all three! Okay! 

_ Now— _how will he get down?

The big ball is between his knees, and he cradles the other two under one arm, holding the spire with his free hand. He very carefully tries to lower himself towards the wire. Just gotta— just gotta finesse it…

_ Oh no— _He can feel the largest ball starting to slip, too heavy to hold up with his legs, and it soon falls, landing on the guy-wire and miraculously balancing there a moment. 

Clutching the other two balls, Kuroko dives for the large ball and grabs it between his feet. Looking down below him at the very long fall, he manages to pull himself atop the wire, but the weight of the big ball pulls him off the wire sideways and he hangs there upside down with his feet in the air, desperately hanging onto the ball. 

He puts the two smaller balls in his coat pockets, and then the last one, and they hang stupidly, stretching the fabric out of shape like gigantic nads. He tries to stand with his heavy coat dragging him, and sways, the balls swinging from side to side, picking up speed and hurling over the wire, tangling him onto it.

And the whole thing goes out of control.

He flails and the city swims below him. He somersaults as the balls swing up like a pendulum, flying up as he hangs by his hands. He somehow untangles again and then rushes across the wire, heaving the balls into the minaret window. 

And then… the balls drop.

_ Crash— _

A tremendous smashing and ringing sound goes off as Kuroko falls down the stairs within the minaret, which coil all the way down to the bottom in a dizzyingly tight ring. 

_ CRASH—! _

Out through a stained glass window bursts the largest ball. 

_ SMASH— _

Through another window blasts the second one, and further down, Cuh-_RASH! _— the little ball bursts out. 

Down in the courtyard, the front door of the minaret flies open and Kuroko shoots out flat, having fallen ass over teakettle all the way down. The balls hit the ground with a terrible clang, and unexpectedly, they _ bounce, _ ricocheting out of control all over the courtyard, setting off loud ringing chimes with each strike. Their different sizes each make a distinct tone, _ bing— bang— bong— _

The horrible ominous noise sets off a huge flock of crows from the palace eaves, their cawing ringing like thunder, and the courtyard is suddenly flooding with half-dressed people awakening and rushing out, fleeing in fright as the balls strike the ground haphazardly, startling them and stirring up a panic.

The repeated strikes of the gold balls sound like the deep, resounding ring of clocktower bells, harbingers of doom.

Kuroko lays on the ground, confused and shaking himself, and as he lifts his dazed head, a large gold ball hits the ground right in front of his face and bounces with a _ BONG— _

He startles back, tumbling over.

The screams and the frantic energy of the crowd alerts him to the situation, and although no one saw him, and no one can say it was his fault, he decides sheepishly that perhaps… perhaps it’s time to slip away.

Kagami feels the same way, man it is time to _ bounce, _ shit is clearly getting intense.

He’s tried to break everything, banging at the stone bricks and hitting the chain links with no luck, and is interrupted by a terrible racket. He can hear screaming and banging in the courtyard, and repeated echoing rings, like metal mallets striking some humongous gong— What’s going on? _ What is that horrible noise—? _

He looks up and sees mounted guards riding past, and he darts back inside, cramming himself through the window and zipping the sawn-off bars back into place as they gallop through.

_ That was close— _

When Kagami looks up through the window, the spire... the spire is empty. He feels his stomach drop, eyes wide with horror.

That… That little _ shit. _ What the fuck did he _do?  
  
_

Upstairs in the unhappy palace, the huge gates have opened up for a dying soldier who’s ridden tirelessly through the desert, through the town, over the moat gate and across the panicked courtyard on an exhausted horse— finally clopping up the steps into the throne room where it expires on the tile, dumping the soldier to the floor.  
  
Princess Satsuki wakes in her crystal blue bedroom, her bed veiled in white silk, the light of the dawn glowing through a stained glass window, a huge pink ten-pointed star. She hears the toll of what sounds like horrible bells outside. 

Rushing out of her chambers, followed by her nurses, who hurry to veil and cover her, Satsuki dashes off.

“Brother!” she calls frantically, strained voice echoing in the halls, and still the bells toll on.

She bursts into his room and hurries onto her sleeping brother’s bed, throwing back the curtains and trotting across the sea of pillows. “Brother, wake up!” she cries, distressed. “Something’s happening!”

Aomine wakes to a terrible noise, pulled to a sit by Satsuki’s little hands. Disoriented, his first waking thought is one of confusion, and he’s immediately drawn into the whirl of dread that has fallen upon the entire city like a terrible ancient curse.

Something is horribly wrong. Stomach knotting up, he rasps, “What? What’s happening—”

“Come quickly, a messenger has come to Father!”

They get up and run, barefoot and undressed, tearing to the throne room, where Father stands looking down upon a lowly man who’s collapsed from a panting horse. Aomine stands there frozen, watching with Satsuki, wide-eyed as he crawls, _ crawls _to the dais, smearing blood in a thick dark trail behind him.

“Your highness,” he wheezes. “Thank- Thank goodness I made it—”

_ DING— DANG— DONG—! _

  
Aomine swallows. Something _ is _happening. Something terrible.


	18. Dawn of Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aomine's carefree childhood has come to an end. War is on the horizon.

Aomine went to bed dreaming peacefully and woke to a horrible nightmare, chaos unfolding all around him.

His surroundings, which have always felt so secure and stable, are quaking beneath his feet. His comforted life has allowed him to grow up naive, unburdened by worries, and all of a sudden, he’s confronted with the reality that _all of that_ can go away. A foreboding sensation of danger, of _ fear,_ creeps in for the first time, and he feels alarmingly young and helpless.

He wants to rely on Father, look to him for reassurance, because he always knows what to do, a wise and level-headed king, but he looks worried, and seeing his father so frightened only heightens Aomine’s sense of dread.

He doesn’t know what to do, so he just stares around in confusion, stomach sick, watching Father urgently speak with advisors and hoping someone will tell them what’s going on. Hanamiya is there too, looking grim, whispering to his courtiers. Satsuki stands at Aomine's arm, frightened and wide-eyed, and he stands as if frozen in place.

A horse has clattered up the steps into the throne room, and a man in soldier’s garb slumps in the saddle.

He can hear ringing and chiming outside, the rattle of what sounds like gigantic bells. _ What is that noise— _

The soldier, battered and bleeding, dismounts the fallen horse and succumbs to his injuries, sinking down and crawling on the floor, dragging himself up to his Father’s feet. Aomine anxiously watches, eyes wide with shock at the sight of the blood trail, his pale grey face, the blood on his lips. There are arrows sticking out of him, the spear point of a flagpole protruding from his chest, a hunk of flesh stuck on the end.

With a mighty effort, he pulls himself up, trembling, blood still oozing out in streams.

“One… Eye…” he gets out, and then Aomine can feel everyone still, holding their breath as he quakes and tries to speak.

“One Eye— is… is coming!” he cries out, and then stiffens.

He salutes the king, and then collapses forward, abruptly lying still. Everyone else exhales, but Aomine holds his breath in, staring for a beat, two— until it suddenly leaves him in a rush, as if he’s been punched. He suddenly realizes— _ oh no— _

_ Is he...? _

Satsuki puts a hand to her mouth and huddles into him, hiding her face. He numbly puts his arm around her, but just stares, wide-eyed and traumatized.

Thunder rumbles outside, and the sky itself seems to darken, heavy and icy and charged to bursting with fright. 

“One Eye?” Aomine hears himself say, squinting an eye shut. 

_ Like from the story—? _he wonders, stomach sick. The adults are all murmuring again. He hugs Satsuki properly. She’s shaking, head in his chest. He’s shaking a little bit too. He rests his lips on her hair, staring from face to worried face. None of them seem confident. Some are even crying out in despair and terror. 

He turns his eyes on Father, who looks severely shaken, and Aomine’s gut twists with dread.

“One Eye!” Father gasps in recognition, and Aomine knows something is horribly, horribly wrong.

“Oh my god!” Father shouts. “No!” 

He watches, heart in his throat, as Father rushes to the window and puts his head out, looking up at the minaret. And all of a sudden, Aomine realizes with a horrifying lurch— 

The spire is empty.

_ Empty— _how can it be?

The king cries out, howling in despair. It rattles Aomine’s bones, makes Satsuki jump in his arms. He goes pale and squeezes Satsuki hard, not letting her turn. His father, the man he’s grown up relying on as an unshakable pillar of strength, a great and powerful king, he looks so old, so frail, and so terribly, terribly crazed— 

_ “They’re gone!” _he yells, staggering aimlessly.   
  
“My kingdom will come to destruction and death!”  
  
His terrible scream echoes, and thunder cracks above them, loud and bone-chilling. And far above the city, all across the wide landscape of desert sand, the Golden Land is shadowed by an approaching storm that looms in from the distant red mountains. 

Heralds of disaster that rush towards a doomed city.  
  


Kagami looks out of his cell window slit on utter pandemonium, waiting for the opportunity to make his escape. 

Something’s going on. Had they caught the guy who pulled the balls off the spire already? But then what’s all that screaming about. They’re making a huge fuss—

Something darker is definitely going on. Wind is whipping like crazy, storm winds blowing in, the sky dark and purple, and Kagami can’t help but remember the prophecy of the city.

_ Should the balls ever be taken away— _

Uneasy, Kagami ruminates on this, looking out into the chaos. He could probably slip into the crowd, if he could get this chain off. The entire city seems to be outside in a panicked mob. 

Can’t blame them. _ ‘I’d be pretty concerned if my balls disappeared too—’ _

And it’s not like it isn’t Kagami’s problem too. He’s _ living _ in the city. If calamity befalls them, it affects him too. The place has been his home for years now, and he does feel worry swelling in his breast.

He tentatively sticks his head out, removing the bars, but ducks back in to replace them as soldiers’ feet run past. Fuck— 

He pulls them out again and peers out, looking around, then recoils when he smells something foul. He pops back in and replaces the bars. Fucking _gross._ The wind must be picking up on the moat and carrying that stench over here.  
  
He ducks back in, oblivious to the little feet sticking out from a recess next to his cell window, little feet that belong to a little thief with his back to the wall as he slides away from the chaos of the courtyard with the empty minaret. 

Good thing too. Kagami would’ve likely strangled him if he’d seen him.

Kagami stares up at the sky through the window, feeling uneasy. The king has come out on the palace balcony to speak to his worried subjects.

The soldiers are rushing in, joining the army of the Golden City, lined up in the courtyard below. The palace populace, attendants, stableboys, cooks, women and children, they all look on from the archways. The courtyard is filled with the hum of the great crowd, buzzing with distress as they look up at the empty spire of the minaret. A hush falls as King Aomine, backed by his vizier and the prince, one at each shoulder, appears on the balcony. 

“My loyal generals! My brave soldiers!” the king booms. “The three golden balls have gone!”

Tremors of agitation run through the crowd, everyone moving as one to crane their head at the spire. Gasps and cries of despair ring out as the king addresses his army, the worried subjects looking on.

Aomine, lingering just behind his father’s right shoulder, swallows hard, straightening his back.

He’s standing back a bit, nervous and unsure, feeling like a child, confused and looking up at the faces of the adults rushing past him, attending his dying mother— He feels like a child as he keeps waiting and waiting with bated breath for someone to say it’s all going to be fine, waiting for someone to take the reins so he can go on naively trusting that everything will be handled for him. But that moment doesn’t come, the moment where the adults will just take care of the issue and allow him to go on living undisturbed.

It’s terrifying how quickly things can change.

One night, he’s happy and pampered, not a worry in his head, naive to the world. And then when the sun rises, that bubble is burst. It all goes away, like a beautiful dream. In a single day, life can completely change. Everything he’s known, it can disappear.

They have him all decked out in an official military costume. His only job is to stand here with good posture. He doesn’t even have to speak, letting Father give the speech and keeping his arms folded behind him, back straight, because it’s the only way to stand while dressed in such stiff fabric. 

His position is only honorary. It’s ceremonial costumery. Aomine can’t fight. He can’t lead. 

He can’t— can’t do anything.

The drums of war are beating and Aomine feels faint, feels his head swim as Father lets out a booming commanding voice. Father’s facade of stern determination, his facade of control over the situation, his experience and wisdom in these matters would be so reassuring if Aomine didn’t see the way he trembles on his feet, hear the rasp to his voice, if he didn’t know the stress was hard on his aging father’s health.

A person he’d naively thought would always be there, a pillar of strength and protection he’d never considered would one day age and crumble. A parent who’s given him the luxury of innocence and leisure, an empty mind and a comforted life. 

All of that is going to change. 

War. 

It feels as though, after being allowed to live his entire life behaving like a child, he suddenly has to grow up in an instant. Has to know what to do, has to take charge, has to rise to the challenge.

But he can’t. He… he can’t do this. He can’t handle the pressure— 

“Our city faces invasion!” The army buzzes in response. “The Mighty One Eye is coming!”  
  
The crowd gasps and Aomine feels a wave of nausea bowl through him. He swallows repeatedly and struggles not to sway on his feet, face hot, head faint. He clasps his clammy hands behind his back and spreads his feet apart an inch or so. Stand straight— Hold your head up— 

“We must defend the city!”

He just can’t stop thinking that he never noticed how weak and old Father has grown. How had he not noticed the grey in his beard, the creases around his eyes, the bones in his hands. Father is especially weak under the stress, but he’s putting on the kingly face he always does, and Aomine has to wonder how long it’s been this way, how long he’s relied on Father to steer the ship like always when really it was all a mirage. 

And now his head's a delirious blur, _ he’s not ready, _ he can’t take command. Even if he found the bravery to step in and try to help Father, take some of the load from his shoulders, he… he doesn’t know _ how. _ He’d never even tried. He’d never wanted to learn.

He’d been too foolish and selfish and fucking _ lazy _ and now— 

Now the One Eyes. One Eye Akashi is coming and they’re all going to pay for Aomine’s mistakes.

The One Eyes— it’s a story that had freaked him out of his wits as a kid, but he’d loved a good thrill as a little boy, loved stories of warlords and pirates and armies, but those tales, historical truth or not, they’d been as far off and fantastic to him as dragons and djinns and magic lamps. He’d never experienced that fear as anything more than a shadow in his room.

But One Eye is no longer a story. He is real, and he is coming to Aomine’s homeland, and with him he leads a fearsome band of nomads that destroys everything and everyone in their wake. The rape and pillage of the towns, the murder of every living soul, those horrible beasts burn every pillar to the ground and leave behind only sand. Draconian violence carried out on a mass scale with surgical efficiency.

Legend has it that One Eye Akashi lost his eye in the battle that felled his father and handed him the seat of power, and every last man, woman, and child in the band of bloodthirsty nomads had cut out their eye to follow him. That amount of resolve in an entire race of warriors, that alone strikes fear in the hearts of men.

And the War Machine.

The part that had thrilled his nightmares as a child, fascinated and frightened him, the vast living behemoth, a spider-like gigantor of black steel, a walking palace of blades, the assault beast that can crush a city like an ant. Akashi’s War Machine is something that he’d like to say came from the deepest crevice of hell, but the thought that such a monstrosity of a machine could come from human hands, it chills the blood.

If it were to make it to the Golden City, they’d be lost— annihilated under a seige of unspeakable horror and violence.

Aomine feels overpowered by dread. Even as a child, it wasn’t told as a fairytale where a hero arises and stops Akashi. Never, in all the tales of the One Eyes, have they been defeated, or so much as diverted in their path of destruction. They’re monsters that roam the earth and eat it up. 

They can’t be stopped. 

They haven’t a prayer. Even attempting to defend the city is a worthless venture. Pointless. Hopeless— 

Until now, avoiding his responsibilities has been a game, like hiding from his teachers when he hadn’t wanted to attend lessons as a boy. It’s all been a big game, and he’s been naive, a careless, foolish young man who’s still acting like a kid. He’s been willfully stubborn, not wanting to learn to be a king, because he’s been running from adulthood, running from his insecurities. Hiding from the uncomfortable thoughts he’d tried to avoid— 

_ He’ll disappoint. He’s not ready to rule. He won’t live up to his father. _

When he thinks of the great kings, Hammurabi, Sargon of Akkad, the great ones from the past who’d built this mighty empire, Aomine feels as though he's staring into the sky at an unattainable jewel, the one thing in his privileged life that remained ever out of reach.

If he didn’t rule with an iron fist, his father’s empire may languish. If he were not benevolent and wise, his people may suffer and resent him. If he showed weakness, a neighboring kingdom may come to overthrow him. It’s all a delicate balance, a careful political strategy that will prevent him from meeting a violent end instead of being taken by old age, surrounded by his children— as he hopes his father will still have the chance to.

And maybe, most of all, he hadn't wanted to wake up. He’s wanted to let himself believe that this carefree life would last forever. That he’d never have to grow up. 

He’d just gone on pretending naively that his father, growing old before his eyes, would always be there. That he’d never expire to old age, would never need to hand the kingdom over to him. That it would never be Aomine’s turn to take over. He’d pretended that he would always be allowed to live as the young prince and never have to become a king.

He’d pretended a day like this would never come— and now…

Now there’s no more running. There’s nowhere left to run to. And the day is quickly approaching where he won’t be able to rely on Dad anymore, won’t be able to rely on Dad to step in for him when he neglects to take the lead.

If the stress finishes Father off, if he falters, Aomine… Aomine will have to lead the kingdom through this mess.

He can’t stop shaking. He’s afraid. 

He’s really, really scared— 

“But keep hope!” Father booms. “According to the ancient prophecy, the city may yet be saved!”

Aomine clenches his eyes shut tight, balling his hands into fists. If only he could have more faith. If only he could trust that to be true, that things would turn out alright. If his trust in the prophecy could outweigh his fear, then maybe he could take hope. Hope that they could somehow save the city at the last minute from utter destruction. If he could do that, then perhaps he would stop feeling like he was about to vomit.  
  
“Take up your positions with my blessing,” Father concludes, and he bends forward, clutching his chest. The crowd cheers, and Father begins to cough. 

He coughs and coughs, and Aomine just stands there staring unseeing over the crowd, straight-backed and rigid when he once would have slouched.  
  
_ “Long live Emperor Aomine—! Long live Prince Daiki—! Long live the Golden City—!” _the standing army rumbles. 

The drums beat and they start parading away. And Aomine goes weak-kneed the second they’re allowed to retreat within the balcony curtains, go back inside.

Father needs to lean on an attendant, who places an arm under his armpit and supports him. If Satsuki were here, she would cling at Father’s side, curl her arm in his elbow and hold him up and chatter, sweeten his day when he feels the aches of old age. If he were a better son— 

Aomine speeds off. He can’t look at him. 

He knows that it’s coming. Father will send for him, Father will need to talk to him, try to prepare him, try to involve him one last time, when it actually matters— matters more than anything.

Satsuki is waiting in the throne room, asking questions the second they’re there. She rushes to Father, who needs to retire so he can rest and plan. Aomine just lingers in a daze.

His head is spinning. He needs to go strip this tight sherwani from his neck and chest and try to get his breath. If he could talk to someone, find somewhere to break down, somewhere to hide and vomit, so that he won’t let them see him weak and crying— If he could just talk to someone— 

It comes to him like a dull blow, a hopeless thought in a despairing mind.

Kagami.

“Brother, you are pale,” Satsuki coos, coming to him when Father is lead away to his chambers to rest. She must’ve seen him looking pale and clammy, standing here with no purpose, dressed up like a doll and feeling so small. 

"War frightens us all,” she soothes, and he feels such a swell of affection for her that it puts a knot in his throat.

“Ah Satsuki,” he hums, a sad sigh. “I just can’t breathe in this sherwani.” 

A quirk of his lip. As if to assuage her fears by acting like his old self, his old careless self who brushes aside every problem, trusting others to deal with it, trusting others more mature than he to handle it. His old self, which he doesn’t think can go on existing anymore, not after today. A foolish innocence that can’t be regained.

She knows him, knows he likes to pretend. Ignore his problems to the last breath. She’s been picking up after him since they learned to walk. Outshining him, yet standing in his shadow.

“It’s going to be okay,” she says, reaching up and putting her hands to both sides of his face, cupping it. He finally makes himself look at her, and her sweet face is filled with worry, the worry that has fallen over the whole country like a curse, and yet there’s so much sympathy for him, as if his fears are unique and special. She says to him what he’s wanted so badly to hear, wants to believe, but it doesn’t comfort his anxious heart as he’d thought it would.

Instead it strikes an overwhelming wave of rising panic that swells into his throat, quickens his breath.

_ It’s not, it’s not, it’s not, my dear sister— _

“Satsuki.” He swallows. Exhales, eyes closed. “Where can my cobbler be,” he murmurs. Her hand is on his cheek. He takes her wrist. 

Satsuki lets out a slow breath through her nose, and doesn’t press him. He’s forever grateful that she doesn’t force him to admit his fears aloud, she allows him to pretend it’s any other day and he’s worked up over some minor whim being overlooked. Make believe that their world isn't crashing down around his shoulders.

He wants an escape, just for one second, if that’s all he’s allowed. If this is the day he wakes up and finally comes into the real world, leaves his childhood behind, then he wants one more moment’s respite. Wants to be with Kagami, rest his frightened heart. He’s sure if he were to see him, to talk with him, he’d be filled with hope and determination, he’d find the strength and courage to be a prince whose country is facing a siege. He’d remember there are reasons to fight, reasons to try even when it looks hopeless. Remember there are still things to look forward to.

After a moment’s thought, she grimaces. 

"He's probably in the dungeon, if I had to guess."

“What?” Aomine bursts, and he doesn’t know why he hasn’t thought of this before, but it makes horrible sense, why he hasn’t heard a thing about where Kagami had gone. 

All the nervous energy rattling around inside him coalesces like static to a lightning rod. His entire body is vibrating with fury. Kagami was put in the dungeon?

_ “Oh fuck no,” _he growls through clenched teeth, then strides off with purpose. “What goes on in this goddamn palace?!”

_ ‘I’m coming, Kagami—’ _


	19. Get Away, Bird of Evil!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Daiki finally goes down to the dungeon to find Kagami. He has to get him out of here at once! Hopefully before Hanamiya's wicked plan is set in motion.

Hanamiya pulls the drapes to the balcony shut as the king retreats, following behind. The despairing crowd below seems to have taken heart from their king’s speech, but Hanamiya knows more than they do. He knows that the Golden Land’s next move is still undecided. The troops sent to stand guard and meet the approaching One Eyes are just a desperate effort to stave off the inevitable while the king and his advisors plan.

Well, this is all getting rather serious, isn’t it— 

Time to work it to his advantage.

Sweeping into the king’s rooms, shooing away the attendant that has released the king’s arm and settled him on a cushion to rest and plan, Hanamiya proclaims, “Worry not, your majesty. I am at your command—”

“You are here, Hanamiya,” King Aomine cuts him off, having caught his breath. He looks particularly stern, perhaps upset remembering the way Hanamiya had blown him off before about his dream. “But where are the gold balls?”

Honestly, Hanamiya’s baffled. How the hell did the balls end up coming off the spire. It's like they'd fallen right off of it, but he doesn't see how that's possible. It’s actually pretty creepy that the king had dreamed it just before it happened, almost as if it really were prophetic after all. Only a few moments after they’d spoken of it, they’d come off the spire as if raining from the heavens.

It does make him uneasy, but he’s always been a weasel by nature, and this is just the catastrophe he’s needed to finally, _ finally _ pose his ultimatum to the king and make a power grab.

_ Where are the balls? _

Hanamiya smiles slyly.

You see, when the balls had fallen from the spire, bouncing around the courtyard, in the ensuing panic, Hanamiya had whispered to his minions to go and discretely collect them, with the intention of bringing them to him in his tower later that evening.

They're the perfect props so he can perform a little magic trick for the king.

“They’ve been magicked away, my lord,” he hums with a grim smile, which draws the king’s attention like a moth to flame. 

Clapping his hands together, he sets off a puff of sparks and a conjured image of three gold orbs, which disappear, popping before the king’s fascinated eyes.

“Magicked away?” he breathes, face falling in despair, and out of sight of the public, in the company of his trusted advisor, he crumbles. “No. Oh no... My god,” he cries, shoulders collapsing as he drops his face into his hands, turbaned head bowing.

Hanamiya has to fight down his spreading grin. This superstitious old fool, so easy to hoodwink.

“Don’t despair, as if nothing can be done!” he scolds, a hand on the king’s back as he lifts his face. “I am practiced in the arts myself.” He grins as King Aomine’s face goes slack.

“You mean… you?” Amazed and skeptical, he stares into Hanamiya’s face.

Hanamiya bows low.

“I will retire to my tower to see what can be done,” he vows, and the king seems heartened. Hanamiya exits with a grin.

Out in the courtyard, five treacherous minions, who have surreptitiously gathered up all three gold balls after much effort chasing them as they’d bounced, sneak quietly through a small secret door in the palace wall. 

And unbeknownst to them, they’ve been spied by a little thief, creeping unseen around the courtyard.

Only slightly chastened after having just caused a sumeric shitton of trouble, Kuroko’s been carefully sneaking around to avoid the palace guards who are still diligently searching for the perpetrator of the ball theft. This means that later, when the army’s cleared out, he’s still hanging around, and is in the right place at the right time to spy a suspicious group of courtiers trying to sneak in a very ungainly manner, coats and pockets bulging unnaturally. 

He shakes his head. No class.

Even a fool would see the glint of the golden balls concealed beneath their robes. And being the greatest fool in the Golden Land, he certainly notices their attempt at discreetly smuggling them into the palace.

He also sees the door they’d left ajar.

Kuroko, back on his bullshit, sneaks in after them into a long dark hall with checkered tiles.

He takes a quick look around, but he can only hear them running off. Shrugging, and with the vague idea of swiping the balls back from them, he follows the direction of their voices, but he quickly finds himself alone in the dark stretch of space, sneaking around on tiptoes and feeling pleased with himself, so easily getting into the palace again. No one can do it like he can— 

He creeps along for a ways but gets distracted when he sees— _ Oh, hello gorgeous. _

There’s a huge glass jar sitting on a marble block display platform, filled up with glowing jewels of large crystal-blue, cut beautifully, and they sparkle so brilliantly that he thinks his dick gets hard, actually— no need to mention that.

Mesmerized, he approaches excitedly, eyes lit up with the bright aqua shine of the jewels, the gold balls forgotten in the face of a new treasure. 

_ Oh, oh, oh— what a find! _

Little grabby hands flexing, Kuroko hurriedly opens his coat and starts taking handfuls from his pockets, throwing out all the treasures he’d stolen from the distracted crowd listening to the king’s speech earlier. He throws out the pile of loot, pots and jugs and brassware hitting the floor with a clang. _Goodbye_ to all those ripped up shoe pieces too, no room for those now.

He rolls up his shapeless sleeves and reaches his scrawny arm down into the opening at the top of the glass jar, grabbing at the topmost jewel in the pile. It’s the size of a pomegranate, so big he can’t close his whole hand around it. It feels like heaven, cold and hard and priceless.  
  
He slithers his arm back to extract the jewel, tugging back, but when he goes to pull his hand out, it sticks in the thin neck of the bottle. He tugs and tugs with a soft clinking noise, but his hand plugs up the bottleneck each time and won’t budge. 

_ Why’s it not working? It went in just fine... _

He frowns helplessly, peering close. 

_ How? No wait… How—? _

The gems are bigger than the opening of the jar! How did they even put them in there in the first place when they’re bigger than the mouth of the jar?!

He can’t— fuck. He can’t get it out!

Frowning, Kuroko puts his little nose on the glass, smudging it and fogging it with his breath as he continues to confusedly try to get the gem out.

He’s so puzzled and engrossed in his unfortunate problem that he doesn’t notice two palace guards glide silently up behind him, blue-robed with gold turbans, imposing beards, and sharp swords. 

When they’re just at his back, glaring down at him, Kuroko looks up slowly. He blinks, and then goes back to yanking at the jar— _ clink, clink, clink! _

The guards silently watch for a moment, perhaps contemplating what a colossal fool they’ve come across, this scrawny, filthy urchin who’s caught himself in a self-inflicted trap, only remaining stuck because he refuses to let go of the jewel. 

He could drop it and bolt right now, but this idiot raccoon would rather hang onto the shiny object than let go and escape. The sheer stupidity has them stoically staring for some time, and honestly, they kind of want to see what he’s going to do.

Kuroko, maintaining eye contact, picks up the whole jar in his skinny arms, and takes a few steps away from them, all the while tugging and clinking. 

The guards slide back up to him. Kuroko walks a few more steps away. 

They roll their eyes and silently pick him up under the arms and carry him away, bottle, jewels and all, Kuroko still tugging pathetically. _Clink, clink, clink—_

Well. This may have been a mistake.

  
Down in the bowels of the palace, two braziers flank Kagami’s cell door, glowing with smoking coals. 

A vulture is pacing back and forth, stomach gurgling and rumbling. It crowds at the entrance, occasionally screeching, clawing at the wood and flapping its wings. _ My breakfast— I can smell it in there! _

It looks up to the sound of angry hurried footsteps.

“Oh I see who did it,” Aomine growls, shooting down the dusty stone steps to the dungeon, storming through the winding passages lit with torches. 

He’s been down here maybe once in his life. The gritty floor is rough on his feet, but he doesn’t care. When he sees the bird at the door he knows he’s in the right place. 

He thunders down the stairs, a rapid clatter of feet, and goes straight for it. He’s blazing mad. That’s _ Hanamiya’s fucking vulture. _

“Get away— you rotten thing!” he snaps, voice echoing in the musty basement hall.

It hisses at him, wings open. Aomine bares his teeth, infuriated, and gives it a heavy _ whop _ in the butt with his slippered foot, sending it thumping down hard onto its belly.

“Get back to Hanamiya’s tower!” Aomine shouts, losing his temper entirely.

The vulture flaps and sulks, but when he goes to kick it again, it hops away. Aomine points down the corridor and stomps his foot down, feeling like one of his aunties scolding an unruly child. It startles and scurries down the hall. 

“Fuck,” he grumbles, shoulders lowering as the bird sulks off. When he’s sure it’s going, he turns and rushes to the cell door slot, sliding it open.

_ ‘Please let him be alive—’ _ he thinks desperately as he peers in. 

A gusty breath of relief leaves him when he sees Kagami, but immediately following springs an overflowing sensation of guilt and renewed anger. Poor Kagami looks so pitiful in there.

Aomine smiles kindly, feeling his heart rend to shreds. This is where he’s been the whole time. He hasn’t deserved this. _ I should have protected him— _

There's not even a scrap of food or a dish of water in there, and only a hard plank of wood to rest on. Has he been fed at all? Have... have they... God, please say no one has _beaten_ him. It makes Aomine's throat tighten just thinking about it. What had they planned to do to him down here? Were they starving him to death or was he meant to be beheaded on the morrow? Or_— _

Aomine suddenly thinks of Phido scuttling in front of the door, squawking hungrily, and he sees red.  
_  
_Oh, when Satsuki finds out, she’ll have Hanamiya by the balls for this.

Kagami has picked his head up, having presumably heard the noise outside his door. His eyes light up when he sees Aomine. He seems surprised and delighted to see him.

_He didn't expect me to come,_ Aomine realizes, devastated.

“Taiga,” he breathes, aghast, “I’m so sorry!” 

He tries the door handle, rattles the door a couple times, then curses. There’s an iron spider on the door, the keyhole nestled in the center of its abdomen. Hanamiya or his cronies likely have the keys squirreled away. 

“Are you hurt? You must be starving—” Kagami smiles, as if to console him, as if _ Daiki’s _ the one who needs comforting when he’s been unjustly put in the dungeon for almost two days now. He smiles as if to reassure him that he's alright, but it only makes him feel worse.

“I’ll get you out,” he promises, staring longingly through the door slot. Kagami nods, a faithful trust in his face, and Aomine hates himself for ever doubting him. 

Kagami hadn’t run away from him. Of course he hadn’t.

When he notices the slipper cradled carefully in his lap, resting there so as not to touch the dusty floor, he has to try not to burst out sobbing— 

Aomine presses himself against the door, crowding at the door slot and curling his fingers around the edges. Kagami stands and shuffles towards him, but has to stop short, long iron spikes sticking out all over the inner surface of the door. Aomine wants to reach out and embrace him, wants to take his hand and soothe him. 

“Oh Taiga,” he breathes, “I never meant for this. I’ll set this right.” He never meant for this to happen. Fuck, when he gets him out of there, he’ll see he’s fed and bathed and generously compensated for his suffering.

Looking around, Aomine practically vibrates on his toes. It's urgent he have Kagami out of there as soon as can be, but he feels a measure of reluctance to leave his side, lest he vanish again. He doesn’t want to leave him, he wishes to stay and protect him from any more mistreatment should someone come along to bully him, but he certainly must have him released immediately. Aomine grits his teeth, peering down the hall again to see if he can catch sight of anyone, but there's no one.

"Fuck, where's a guard when you need one." The one time he wishes his ever present shadows were with him and they're not. He'd much rather send a servant to fetch a guard with the keys so he could stay right here with Kagami until they returned, but Hanamiya must have scared them all off when he'd left Phido here. "I don't want to let you out of my sight... I'll be back, I promise I'll hurry."

He makes to move back, but Kagami takes a step forward, face falling, and Aomine stops. 

Kagami sighs, seeming to plead with him to stay just a moment longer, gazing at him through the door slot. Aomine's heart aches as he comes back to rest against the door. How he wishes he could reach out and hold his hand.

"This is the first time we've been alone," he says at last, to try and lighten Kagami's spirits. "Not how I planned it to go at all..." Kagami grins, teeth shining in the darkness of his cell. Aomine smiles back, feeling some degree of comfort return to his troubled heart just to see his smiling face. "I was going to try and sneak away with you in the garden... hide in a tree..." he trails off as Kagami shuffles his feet. 

Were poor Kagami not in a cell and Aomine unable to get to him, he might feel some measure of delight to see him flustered. But the slight rattle of a chain makes Aomine crumple with guilt. "Fuck. I haven't stopped thinking of you for a moment. I've asked the whole palace where you'd gone. If I'd known you were trapped here, I promise you I'd have come right away. Don't worry, Taiga, the sun won't set tonight before I see you released_—_"

Still not a single guard has come along. If Aomine has to do it himself, then he’ll run back to retrieve the keyring and a guard to open the door, and then return at once. Perhaps notify some attendants on the way to ready accommodations for Kagami, a meal fit for Aomine’s own table, heat up a bath and lay some clothes out—

And when he’s fed and rested and taken care of, Aomine will see that Hanamiya answers for this offense.

“I’ll send for the keys at once. Wait a moment, I’ll come for you.”

Kagami nods, and Aomine gazes into his deep brown eyes for a long desperate moment, and then tears himself from the door, promptly rushing away, back up the steps.

_ He came— _ Kagami thinks, feeling consoled. Prince Daiki hadn’t forgotten him. He hadn’t been tricked into thinking of Kagami as some horrible man who’d robbed him and left. He’d come and found him, livid and horrified with his predicament.

He really came for Kagami. It’s a relief to his tired bones to know that, after all Kagami’s doubts and suspicions, the prince really had cared about him.

_ And I was able to see him one more time— _

Heart swelling with melancholy and bittersweet relief, Kagami watches after him through the open door slot, then sinks back to the floor. 

He knows Prince Daiki will return for him. Knows that he'll try, at least. But Kagami knows now he can’t rely on the prince’s good intentions. There are other forces at play in the palace, and he can’t count on Prince Daiki to be quicker in rescuing him than Lord Hanamiya will be in disposing of him.

He must escape, even if he can’t see the prince again after that.

He takes out his tiny file and then starts sawing at his ankle chain with a vengeance.

Above the dungeon, above the palace, a vulture races back to the vulture-shaped turret that looms menacingly, swooping through a window and making a running landing as his great wings flap to brake himself.

He skids across the floor and straight into Hanamiya’s robed legs, bumping them. 

Hanamiya rights himself, whips out his staff, and swats Phido on his aching bum right on the foot-shaped bruise from earlier. He hisses in pain and jumps up onto the globe, perching there resentfully.

Now, with that rude interruption out of the way, Hanamiya returns to his business, accepting the three gold balls from his minions.

“Brilliant,” he praises, showing his teeth. “You kept out of sight? No one saw you, not a soul?” 

At the threatening glint in his eyes, they respond with gulps and nervous grins, sweating. “Not a soul!”

Phido seems to chuckle at their predicament, if vultures could chuckle. Zeroing in on the shortest one, he flaps over and bites his hand.

“Owch!” Matsumoto yelps, jumping back and shaking his hand. “He bit a piece out of my finger!”

“Yes, he has quite an appetite—” Hanamiya grins. He has the balls. The perfect bargaining chip. He calls Phido to his shoulder and grins.

“We’ll let this be our little secret, alright?”


	20. You Must Grant My Heart's Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanamiya makes his move.

Well, he’s finally in for it now.

“Thief—!” proclaim the guards as they carry him out into a yard and up a platform that is bare other than a set of stocks. “Thief—!” Their shadows are long and black behind them, the sun turning the wooden platform red. “Thief—!”

A wandering crowd gathers, first in a slow trickle, then a significant throng of interested, perversely fascinated citizens.

As they walk Kuroko up the steps and place him before the stocks, he pulls his head back into his coat like a turtle. One guard opens the stocks up and the other pushes him forward, obviously urging him to place his hands into the half-moon hollows. 

His hands tremble and draw back into the sleeves. Why him?! What did he ever do?! He hadn’t even stolen that jewel! Well, he’d tried to— 

He hadn’t even sold any of the stuff he’d stolen! Well, maybe that was only because he was too incompetent to hang onto it long enough—  _ Details! _

_ Sweet Marduk, my holy god, save me, I’ve learned my lesson! _

The guards push him up against the stocks, waiting for his hands to go in. He shuffles on his knees, quivering in fright.

Suddenly, as if struck by lightning, he stills, an idea coming to him.

Demeanor changing completely, Kuroko looks slyly at the guards and leans forward to the stocks. From inside his sleeves, he inserts the two jeweled backscratcher hands he stole from the princess. 

His arms look pitifully skinny in the stocks, so narrow and bony that he could pull them right out through the holes even when they close the stocks. He rattles the backscratchers to mimic a frightened tremble.

The guards raise their scimitars. The drums roll. The crowd gasps and  _ whap— whap—  _ the blades flash down, cutting off the little backscratcher hands.

Kuroko seizes, mocks a gasp of pain, and pulls the stump ends into his coat. Wasting no time, he hobbles on his knees across the platform, down the stairs, into the crowd, and out of an exit from the square_—_ before they can notice that he doesn’t bleed.

He runs up an alley staircase and ducks into a niche in the wall.

He drops what’s left of the backscratchers with a clatter and pops one hand out after the other, checks them, and then shudders. 

Then he promptly runs away up a flight of stairs.

_ Learned my lesson— Haha. PSYCHE! _

Kagami, in the meantime, has given up trying to get the ankle cuff off, and finally figures out how to finagle a tack in the lock, popping it open and kicking it off, letting the chain fall to the ground in a heap by the iron ball.

He stands and looks up at the window.

He doesn’t know when Aomine’s going to return, and he knows he needs to get out of here. Things are hitting the fan and it’s in his best interest to leave as soon as he can. Never mind what could happen to him in a peaceful country, caught up in another political squabble in the palace, but Kagami had heard enough of the king’s grim speech. War— The One Eyes are coming from the East. A swift departure from the castle is best. He’s an ordinary person, and he doesn’t have the luxury of hiding out in the castle for safety while the world suffers outside. He’s part of the world. 

He hopes Aomine won’t hold it against him. 

At least— 

His heart seizes with sorrow and regret. At least he’d seen him one last time, at least he knew in his heart that it wasn’t all a dream. Aomine had really cared, he’d really felt something for him. Kagami had held the heart of the prince for one afternoon. He’ll carry that with him in his escape.

Kagami climbs up his ladder, removes the window bars, and squeezes out of the hole. He wiggles out onto his stomach, pulls his legs through, stands up and stretches, and then works his way along the palace wall.

He can hear the sound of marching feet approaching. He freezes.  _ Fuck—  _

Frantically looking around, he has a moment to stuff himself against the wall to hide before a troupe of soldiers rounds the corner. However, when he shoves himself back, he hears a whirr and a clank, and then  _ vroom—  _

By some freak luck, he’s managed to press himself against a secret door in the wall, hand pushing against the exact brick by sheer accident. The mechanism triggers and a section of the wall swings in a one-eighty, sweeping him back inside the palace.

He stands there in the darkness for a moment, stunned. 

_ ‘… The fuck?’ _

Unbeknownst to him, swinging out on the other side of the door in the wall is a startled Hanamiya, arms full of the golden balls. Bewildered, he’s deposited outside just as two soldiers pass by. He covers the balls with his cloak in a hurry.

The soldiers bow and scrape before him. “Evening, your grace,” they mutter, a bit resentfully. 

“Yes, yes, move along—” Hanamiya smiles all teeth and the soldiers exit subserviently.

Disgruntled and puzzled, Hanamiya looks around and reaches for the trick brick.

“Nothing works here anymore.”

Kagami, just inside, has looked both ways a few times, trying to figure out what to do next, then says fuck it and runs down a passageway a moment before Hanamiya comes back inside. They just miss each other.

Kagami figures that if he’s back in the palace, his options are to try to search out an exit in the vast complex, or hope he bumps into Prince Daiki in his wandering. Whichever he finds sooner will determine his life’s path.

Meet the prince again and have a few last words, see what he says, or fade back into obscurity and prepare for the coming siege. 

He can’t say he isn’t hoping to see him again. Perhaps if things had been different, if not for the balls falling from the spire, if not for the One Eyes, Prince Aomine may have wished him to stay and be his shoemaker.

If anything, Kagami can say goodbye, and thank him from the bottom of his heart.

_ Vroom—  _

Hanamiya sweeps inside the inner wall, looks around, shrugs, and goes on his way the same way Kagami went, none the wiser.

Kagami, however, can soon hear the footsteps behind him, and the echo of malicious laughter. A familiar voice fills the hall. Shit, it’s just one thing after another, isn't it.

“Now that I have the balls, I will show that old fool.”

Looking over his shoulder, Kagami can see a black silhouette behind him, a vulture-like figure in a black cloak. Charged with fright and fury, Kagami glares back at who can only be Lord Hanamiya, and then bolts down a hall and up some stairs to avoid him.    
  
Fuck, how does he keep running into this guy— Does he just skulk around hoping he’ll come across Kagami so he can harass him some more? Fucker.

“My hour of greatness has come at long last!” 

_ Damn dude, get a life. Talking to yourself like that is just pathetic. _

Kagami can hear him cackle as he passes by below. He peeks his head out once he’s passed, then cautiously tiptoes back out. 

He isn’t the only one to have spotted Hanamiya on his march to the king. Kuroko, having learned nothing, is back in the palace again, lurking, and has seen him with the balls.

Kuroko hunkers down and sneaks after him.

Aomine, for his part, is absolutely fuming as he storms through the palace.

Is it possible that Taiga thought he had been put there on _Aomine's_ orders? That Aomine had tricked and played with him? Fuck, that rotten Hanamiya! Had he truly been so offended by the humiliation Kagami had caused him that he would wait until Aomine’s back was turned and then try to have Kagami executed after all?

Aomine strides with purpose. Kagami is down in the dungeon and he shouldn’t have to stay there a second longer when he did no wrong. 

“Brother!” Satsuki calls out, and falls in step with him, hurrying to keep up. Aomine glares forward, jaw set, but she begins to tug his arm in an attempt to slow his gait.

She’s trying to tell him about Father and that Hanamiya has some plan of action, but Aomine cuts her off. “Do you know where Kagami has been?” he barks. She’s startled to see him shout. He’s livid.

“In the dungeon!  _ In a cell!”  _ Aomine rages. “Ooh, Hanamiya will hear it from me over this one— and don’t you try to defend him!” he snaps.

“Soon, my brother, but first— something’s happening. It’s important, we need to go to Father,” she tries to tell him, the bells on her pant-cuffs jingling as she trots to keep up with him. He's too infuriated and won't listen to her, not slowing his pace.

“Kagami is down in the dungeon right this moment! What could be more important!” he yells. He doesn't know why he’s yelling at her, really. He never yells at her even when he’s cross, but he’s particularly high strung today and ready to snap.

She puts him in his place though when she insists and finally drags him to a stop in the hallway. “Daiki, Father has said that Lord Hanamiya may be able to tell us how the city can be saved.”

He tosses his head irritably, hissing through his teeth and itching to pace the floor. “Don’t let me see him, Satsuki. I’ll run him through—”

“We will scold him once the kingdom is safe, my brother. This will not go unanswered, don’t worry. Now come.” Aomine lets out a long breath through his nose, clenching his fists, but follows.

As it happens, she’s right, as she usually is. Kagami’s predicament must wait a little longer, because urgent matters are going on above deck. And once he follows her, the fire drains out of him and the nausea and nerves return, settling like a heavy fog.

He’d let himself forget the coming war for a few moments. The world does not revolve solely around him and his concerns. Not anymore.

“We need to talk to Father, there must be something we can do.” 

_ We can’t do anything—  _ he thinks.  _ I can’t do anything.  _

Satsuki sees his pale face and shifty eyes and stops in an archway. He knows she wants to help Father. He’s just feeling so anxious. 

He can vaguely hear Satsuki trying to reassure him, but he’s quiet, off in his own head. It would be better to leave it to Father and his advisors. His war generals have more experience than they do. Aomine, treasured son or not, will only be in the way. He’s never bothered to learn a single thing that would give him the skills and the knowledge to be of any help to Father in his strategic meetings. 

“Father has called us, brother. We must go.” He lets her take him by the hand, tiny ringed fingers enclosing a few of his own. He lets her lead him.

“Yes…” Gulping, he dazedly tries to hold his head up. “Yes, I…”

He knows what’s coming. The king is going to call upon his faithful son, entrust him with an important task, but Aomine is worthless, useless, and this is the moment when he will let Father down for the last time, let the whole kingdom down. 

He’s not ready— fuck, he’s not ready.  
  


_ ‘I am so ready—’ _ Hanamiya thinks smugly. He’s been waiting for this moment for ages. 

Beating the king’s children by a long shot, he comes into the throne room through a door in a puff of green smoke. Neither he nor the king notice the little thief who scuttles after him and hides in the throne room among a cluster of eagle statues.

“I’m here, your majesty,” Hanamiya greets slyly, “to remind you of the second half of the prophecy of the gold balls.”

King Aomine is irate and impatient. “Yes, yes, out with it! Not a moment more to lose!” he urges. 

Hanamiya maintains his composure, his diplomatic smile firmly in place as he unfurls a scroll and then reads, “The city can be saved before it falls by the simplest soul with the simplest of things—” 

He pauses for effect, until he can feel the king leaning in. “Yes?” he prompts. “Yes, go on?”

“The word of the ancients has been laid down for us in this text.” Snapping the scroll shut, he raises a finger. “But who is the simplest soul, you may ask?”

Contemplative, King Aomine strokes his beard for a time, pondering it and looking down upon the city. “Who indeed,” he broods unhappily. “Who—?”

“Who?  _ I—!”  _ Hanamiya proclaims.

Incredulous, King Aomine gives him a look. “You?”

“Whose existence is simpler than mine, dedicating my life to you in service, my king,” Hanamiya simpers, bowing low. The king frowns down at him, troubled brow pulling low.

“... But how can  _ you _ save the city?”

Hanamiya straightens up, grinning. Perfect. Time for some cheap tricks to fool an old and feeble mind. 

“Observe!”

With a clap of his hands, a puff of swirling yellow smoke billows through the room, encircling a mesmerizing display, his hands holding the gold balls within. “Alakazar—!” he booms, and electricity sparkles from the cloud as it grows and grows, obscuring Hanamiya within.

Lightning flashes from its center, lighting the room in multi-colored fire. King Aomine stands there, sleeves blowing, gazing in amazement. 

The clouds part and a silver dove flies around its inner edge, mystic fire following it in a trail. It disappears in a bright burst as a glowing sun forms in the center of the ring. 

“Alakazam, Alakazoh, as above, then so below—”

From beneath the golden sun appears a mid-sized sun and a smaller sun. They rotate around and then line up like the three golden balls, glowing brilliantly. A transparent dome fades in under them.

The minaret, before it was stripped bare!

“As you can see, I can restore the gold balls, though they have been lost, my king.” Hanamiya bows, and waves his hands through the vision, which fades. 

“But to return them will cost me a great deal.” He sucks in his cheeks like a dead man, turning his skin green and grey.

The king is being taken in. He can see it on his face, nodding along avidly. It’s working. The magic tricks seem to have given Hanamiya some air of legitimacy, has made the king believe he’s capable of some great act of sorcery, because he can see the way the king leans in with anticipation more and more, buying it lock, stock, and barrel. He’s got him on the end of his pinkie finger.

"And this can stop the One Eyes' advance on our city," King Aomine says, "and save us...?"

"I am certain of that, should I succeed."

“I’ll give you anything, Hanamiya— just do it,” he begs.

Yes. Music to his ears.

“You must grant my heart’s desire.”

All his years of loyal service to the king, becoming his most trusted and dependable advisor have all led to this moment, where he has the absolute trust and faith of the king, who stands there and listens intently, completely buying his entire premise. 

Attentively waiting, King Aomine prompts urgently, “Which is—?”

Hanamiya waves his hands and performs a conjuration again. A circular rainbow forms before him, a prism disc, and in the center appears a red rose. 

This is it. This is what he’s been waiting and planning and clawing his way to the top for. This is the moment when his ambition and his genius planning is rewarded.

He grins his widest grin, showing all his teeth, then bows and grins at his feet. 

“My desire is simple as a rose, and just as red,” he proclaims. 

“Your daughter’s hand in marriage—”

Aomine and Satsuki had made their way to the throne room and had found Hanamiya already there talking with Father, and had decided they would quietly wait outside to seek an audience with Father afterwards, no need to interrupt, but now— 

When Aomine hears those words, he stands back from the doorway, breath stilling in his throat, and Satsuki— Satsuki stands there petrified and quivering, eyes wide like a startled doe.

Aomine’s heart has ceased to beat as a horrible realization overtakes him.

He’s… he’s holding the city hostage.

The safety of the Golden Land, the lives of everyone, he’s blackmailing Father, demanding Satsuki be given over as a sacrifice to save the rest of them. He has the gold balls, and he’ll give them back if he can marry Satsuki as ransom.

The terrible silence that fell after Hanamiya's wicked request chills his bones, and try as he may to move and tear Satsuki away, take her and start _running_ before Father can give her to that evil man, he's frozen in place. 

He's rooted to the spot. He has to hear what Father will say.

King Aomine’s head has jerked up in utter disbelief, and he stares at Hanamiya in silence, brow creased in thought. Aomine watches, palms clammy and mouth dry. A sudden, terrible, dark _panic_ strikes him. 

Will he… He’s not going to do it, is he?

That’s when he realizes Father is shuddering. His face is scrunching up in _rage._ He’s— he’s  _ furious. _

“You… want my daughter?” he grits out, voice bubbling with barely concealed fury.

Hanamiya nods, his smug, winning smirk still in place, hands clasped. “How dare you!” King Aomine shouts, an explosive burst. "No! No, never!" Hanamiya shrinks back. 

“Never?” He’s still smiling, but his eyes are cold and resigned.

“Never! Ever!” King Aomine refuses,  _ shouting. _

“Well, I just thought I’d ask,” Hanamiya snickers, backing away, still smiling maliciously.

“Leave my sight this instant! Get out!  _ Now—!” _

Aomine’s heart and stomach both jolt horribly, pulse racing. He’s  _ never _ seen his father so much as raise his voice. Never seen his brow more than crease in disapproval. Such explosive anger, the furious pacing, it rattles Aomine badly, but there’s also a tremendous sense of…  _ relief.  _

Hanamiya is livid. There’s nothing he hates more than to be scorned, and he’s absolutely furious. He stomps down a circular staircase in a fit of controlled fury, muttering through his teeth.

_ You won’t give her to me? Fine then. I’ll take my balls and leave— This city is toast anyways. _

That’s it. He’ll take them to the One Eyes.   
  


It’s clearly time to change alliances. 

Up in the throne room, the king paces and huffs, hunched over and muttering. Now he must think of another plan, and quickly.

Just outside in the hall, Aomine stands in the archway, exhaling shakily. Shit— for a moment he’d really thought that maybe Dad would— Fuck, that was intense.

He looks down at Satsuki in concern. She hasn’t moved.

He feels so, so relieved. Father has been talking of marrying her off for years, but this… He’d refused Hanamiya’s ultimatum. For a second there Aomine had genuinely feared Father had considered it, because Father has always believed the royal family must make necessary sacrifices for the good of his people— and yet, even at the cost of his kingdom and his people, he’d refused to give Satsuki over to Hanamiya.

Aomine felt an immense wave of relief and pride to hear Father refuse so severely. And he also felt a great respect. He's always known that Father had to be king first, and sometimes being their parent got pushed to a secondary role. But when it really mattered, and right then it had mattered more than anything, King Aomine was not only a good and just king, too principled to be blackmailed even in a time of intense duress, he remained foremost a loving father.

To have that comforting reminder, to be reminded of Father’s care of them, to be reminded that he cares for them as his children and not just as political bargaining chips, it takes a weight off of Aomine’s shoulders that he didn’t know was there. 

To him they are more precious than his empire, all his shimmering jewels and treasures, more precious than his crown.

And Satsuki.

Her eyes are glittering with unshed tears.


	21. Fetch Me My Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aomine hits his lowest point just in time for our friends to reunite.

Lightning flashes and distant thunder rumbles above the palace. The storm stretches for miles.

In a faraway land, behind dark mountains and beyond red hills, the sky is black with thunderclouds. Up above the sound of the rolling thunder comes heavy drums and marching feet, practically drowning nature out with a terrible man-made storm. 

Between the hills appears the One Eye army, advancing like a swarm of giant beetles. 

After the infantry comes huge ramps of war machinery. Crossbows the size of houses, colossal catapults, giant gear wheels, hoists, levers, pulleys, and blades, all interlocking parts in an enormous machine of death.

Finally comes the Mighty One Eye, overseeing his vast army, seated higher than the rest on a human throne of interlocking men, who look quite chagrined. As he lurches along, he chews at a leg of roast and cries out, “I shall gnaw the Golden City to the bone— and I shall spit it out!”

He slings a goblet of wine over his throne, bringing  wails and groans from the men he sits on.  Shrieking with laughter, he kicks his feet up boisterously. Single golden eye glowing, he stares towards the Golden Land.

Thunder and lightning boom and flash as they march ever closer. Not long now.  
  


In that unhappy city, King Aomine is pacing in agitation in his throne room. The room is darkening and the distant thunder rumbles. A dark and heavy atmosphere has befallen the entire city, troubled and anxious.

Kuroko, who’s been sneaking about and watching, peeks out from a potted plant and spies as the king’s grown children, the prince and princess, come in from a curtained doorway and join the king.

Aomine has quite a lot of things to say about Lord Hanamiya,  _ a lot of fucking things—  _ but he keeps his mouth shut, falling into a nervous and brooding silence when he sees his father’s continued pacing. 

Of course they weren’t going to ransom Satsuki— that wasn’t an option worth even a second’s consideration. But it also means that the city is in a lot of trouble. They didn’t have any other plan than to try and get the balls back, did they? And now that’s fucked. 

Aomine feels panic swell in his throat momentarily when he can’t quite fight off the thought that  _ it means we’re doomed— Father’s just going to tell us how to die with honor—  _

When Father sees them, he pauses in his pacing and his angry expression relaxes. He seems to have realized that they’d overheard and perhaps regrets that they’d seen that happen, but he doesn’t say a thing about it. Perhaps there’s nothing that needs be said. Not now, at least. 

“You’ve come, my children.” Satsuki nods and comes to Father’s side, taking his elbow. Aomine’s silent, face tense and jaw clenched hard. 

“How can we help, Father?” Satsuki chirps, having wiped her eyes but still occasionally sniffling, radiating with a quiet joy.

Aomine feels shaky all over, but stands rigid as a salt pillar. This is the moment when Father will tell them what they must do, their final duty to the family. Their most important task. He’s been trying to escape this moment with all his might, but now he sees there’s no stopping it.

“I’m the king, such as I am,” Father says, cupping Satsuki’s hands and looking down on her with fondness. “I’ve got to stay and fight, but you must go far away.”

It’s not what Aomine expected at all. He’d expected some kind of military missive— for him at least. He hadn’t expected Father would shelter them again, send them away where they can be untouched by the war. In a way, Aomine feels an intense shame over it, thinks of the young men of the army who are sent to stand as fodder for the One Eyes, young men who should have lived in peace to their seventies, and he, the prince, is going to be allowed to run away to safety.

It should be a comfort. It should be a relief.

But instead, he feels his heart grip with utter terror. 

Everything’s changing so quickly. It’s like the entire world, everything he’s known, it’s all going up in smoke. He’s never even been outside of the palace before, let alone outside the country, and suddenly they’re going to be thrust out into the world on their own— away from home. Away from Father.

He feels so afraid and so disgusted that he doesn’t know whether to cry or vomit or yell, throw a tantrum one last time and see if he gets his way. He doesn’t even know what he wants though. He can’t make Father stop the war. He can’t make the One Eyes stop. There’s no way out of this one.

“Listen very carefully.” Satsuki’s eyes are wide in rapt attention. Aomine clenches his fists, digging his nails into his palms.

“I’m afraid the golden balls have been magicked away,” Father says, and Satsuki frowns.

Satsuki doesn’t believe in magic, but Aomine buys it. Hanamiya’s a rat and he totally believes that he’s got some dirty tricks up his sleeves. How can he not, have you seen the size of those things—? However, he’s mentally torn, because he instinctively believes anything Satsuki says, and  _ she’s _ told him that she thinks the balls were stolen. But maybe, maybe Hanamiya had stolen them with magic— 

“Magicked—?” Aomine murmurs.

“Magicked away— more likely they were stolen,” Satsuki muses.

“We may have but one chance,” Father tells them, and Aomine swallows hard. “There is a mad and holy old witch who dwells at the top of the desert mountain. You must go and seek out this witch. Perhaps she can tell us how the city can be saved.”

Aomine listens with a mix of fascination and horror. He understands now. This is why they hadn’t been sent off earlier with his aunties and siblings. They’re going to be sent on this journey as some kind of last hope of saving the city, and to find safety outside the city walls. How can Father entrust them with this?

Satsuki looks excited, determined even, but he feels scared. He’s never been outside the palace. He doesn’t think he’s cut out for this. He can’t. How can he possibly succeed? Father’s going to send them and the city will be lost— 

It’s then that he realizes Father has been talking to Satsuki directly this whole time, looking into her eyes, facing her and holding her shoulders.

And maybe as resentful as Aomine’s always been to everyone who holds Satsuki back, maybe in a corner of his mind he’d done the same, because he’d never assumed Father could have meant to include Satsuki in this important missive, that he would possibly let her out of his sight, out of the palace— let alone give her such an important job.

It’s the first time he’s acknowledged her in this way, really, and it’s in such an important and desperate time, the time it matters most, and her face is aglow with amazement.

Aomine swallows hard.

Maybe part of him had expected that Dad would just try forever, keep expecting things of him only to let Aomine continue running away, shouldering off those tasks he offers out so that he can prove himself if he wishes. Maybe he’d thought Dad would never give up, that the offer would always stand if he ever changed his mind and decided to be a better prince. As many times as he’d told him to give Satsuki the crown, he’d never thought Father really would take it off his head and place it on hers. But there it is— 

“Had I a willing son, I would send him on this perilous journey, and you would need not go,” he says to her, and Aomine’s heart breaks into pieces.

He feels…  _ invisible. _

Aomine’s stomach drops and he hangs his head in shame. “Father,” Satsuki says, and she doesn’t sound emotional or quivering with joy anymore, her heart so warmed to hear Father defend her that she’d fallen to weeping. She sounds… so grown up, and it makes Aomine’s heart ache. Like she’s been ready for this opportunity her entire life, finally given the chance to prove herself— 

“I can handle it,” she promises.

Father’s eyes well with tears, face filled with sentiment that he passes with a sigh.

“Father,” Aomine whispers, voice cracking coming out, but it’s as if he hasn’t said a word. Throat swelled shut, he grits his teeth and drops to one knee, gets on the ground to beg, because he thinks he realizes now, he thinks he’s finally realized that the price of running away is even more awful than suffering through the anxious fear of failure. This shame is so much worse. It’s unbearable.

He’d rather go, he’d rather try to prove himself even if he’s terrified, rather fail and let everyone down, he’d rather have the misplaced trust and pride of the king and have to suffer those expectations than to shoulder the shame of Father’s disappointment. Because he’s been given nothing but chances to prove himself, and he’s never bothered. But to feel Father finally give up on him, it’s the worst pain he’s ever felt. He regrets all of it.

“Father—” Desperate and pitiful, he feels so small. Swallowing hard, he fiddles at the hem of Dad’s robe, clenching it in his hand.

“I too am at your command, my king,” he rasps out, heart in his throat. 

“We will not fail you or our people, Father,” he hears Satsuki say.

Satsuki—  _ Fuck.  _ He has to bite his tongue hard to fight tears. Her kindness, it’s just incredible. She’s been brushed aside for the sake of her lazy brother her entire life, and yet she’s so forgiving, so quick to include him. 

He’s so overwhelmed by it that he’s startled back to reality when he hears King Aomine murmur with a proud and sentimental warmth, “You’ve grown up, little ones.”

Aomine doesn’t move. Father’s hand is on his shoulder, warm and heavy. He keeps his head down for a long time, heart beating frantically in the silence, but he at last chances a look up, and Father’s beard is shining with tears, creased with a smile.

“My children,” he sighs.

Aomine stands, charged with a thrill of relief and terror, because there’s a sense of  _ no going back now. _ He tries to calm his fluttering pulse as Father lays out a fantastic adventure before them, one he’s been told of in tales as a child, but this time he and Satsuki are the heroes and will act out the legend. 

Satsuki listens in fascination and determination, but Aomine has a pit of uneasiness in his stomach. He feels relieved to have been given one last chance, but it feels so important, and he isn’t confident that he can rise to the challenge. So much is riding on their success. But… he has to try, doesn’t he. And he won’t be alone. He’ll have Satsuki, as always. 

“At the foot of the desert mountain is a golden idol with a priceless ruby set in its forehead,” Father tells them, leading them to the map tapestry on the east wall. Aomine stares up at it with anticipation, the world out there waiting for them— and he’s going to see it for the first time.

Kuroko, who has been shimmying around the throne room, scoping the place out and watching the prince's face change colors, perks up when he hears tell of the idol, rapt with attention. Sounds promising.

“When the desert sun is directly overhead, the reflection of the ruby falls upon a hidden door to a path up the mountain.”

Kuroko stands behind a pillar, listening. Lightning flashes through the window, causing a mirror just beside him to light up, flashing his reflection. Recoiling in terror, he falls back.  _ Okay, time to check out the other side—  _

“You must cross the great desert. Go now,” the king urges them, sending them off with well-wishes.   
  


Kagami, in the meantime, has been wandering the palace, hopelessly lost. 

He’d narrowly avoided Hanamiya again. The guy had seemed in high spirits earlier, but he hears him grumbling and stomping his way out down some steps and has to dash off to stay out of sight. After that, he’d been aimlessly walking, hoping to find an exit, and had somehow stumbled across the throne room.

He peeks through a woven curtain, and feels his heart leap. The prince is there! Man, what kind of crazy luck has struck him over the past days. 

Princess Satsuki, King Aomine, and Prince Daiki are gathered there with some attendants and guards, discussing an urgent matter. From what he gathers, the prince and princess are departing on a journey and are arranging supplies and protection. 

Head peeked through the curtain, he withdraws and lingers back. They’re in the middle of something. He’ll wait and hope he can meet with the prince afterwards.

“A boat will be waiting to take you up the river until you are well clear of the city.” 

Aomine is charged with nerves but has built up some resolve. He can’t let Satsuki show more bravery than him, after all. He’s ceased his quiet brooding as Father helps them arrange a convoy to accompany them out of the city, but when the time comes to say farewell, he feels his heart weigh heavy in his chest. 

He’s saying goodbye to his home and family, but before he leaves, there’s one last thing he does not wish to leave behind. 

“Before we go, Father—” Aomine mentions, and it’s almost as if it’s any other day, Father listening attentively for his smallest whim, happy to spoil him. It’s almost as if they aren’t being sent off into the world, young adults on their own for the first time, desperately trying not to think of the perils awaiting and that this may be the last time they are all together.

“Yes, my boy.” 

“My cobbler has been imprisoned. May I see him returned, so that he may settle his affairs before the city is sieged—” More than anything, Aomine wants to say goodbye to him, if this is the end— 

“If you wish.”

“I wish,” he snarks. Father pats his head, ruffles his hair, a break from his usually composed and serious mood. Aomine smiles.

Satsuki, who suddenly sounds very sly and knowing, chirps, “Father, we need a guide!” Aomine looks up, and sees her beaming, looking towards the far archway. 

Aomine’s heart leaps. 

_ Kagami—  _

“Yes, I agree. But who?” Father muses. 

“I know who,” Aomine says, striding towards Kagami, who’d been looking very confused and lost until he realizes he’s been caught, upon which he looks positively mortified. He gulps, but reveals himself, head down.

Aomine walks up to him, beaming ear to ear. “You’re here! How did you get free?”

Kagami hesitantly scuffs a foot and looks down, and Aomine realizes he’s clasped his hands in his without realizing it. He lets him go, and Kagami, who’d seemed alarmed at being found wandering the palace, relaxes, warmed by Aomine’s joy at seeing him again. He smiles and holds up his little file.

“Nice—” Aomine beams and places an arm at his back, leading him at his side, bringing him before Father.

Kagami bows low at the waist, stiff and nervous, then stands there for appraisal. Aomine’s sure he practically glows with pride to show him off to Father, perhaps inappropriately so, seeing as most aren’t perceptive enough to see Kagami’s precious worth.

“The cobbler?” Father muses, pulling his beard with a pensive frown. “... You have escaped,” he finally notes to Kagami, who startles after a beat, realizing he’s talking to him. 

Aomine bites his lip to fight a smile as Kagami nods hesitantly, and with a hint of defiance. There’s something charming about his honesty despite his clear assumption that he’s going to be in trouble for springing from prison.

“He’s clever, Father,” Satsuki pipes up.

“He’s brilliant,” Aomine murmurs, looking soft-eyed at Kagami, who hesitantly raises his gaze to his, and when he finds him already looking, he straightens and flushes.

He expects perhaps a bit more skepticism on Father’s part. Perhaps it’s the urgency of the war that keeps him from considering too long on the propriety of his son and daughter being accompanied by a peasant guide, but all he ends up saying is, “Can you trust him?”

“Yes,” they vouch for him with matching grins.


	22. Cross the Great Desert, Go Now!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been gone a while! Shit's been crazy.

_ Shit _ — 

Kagami knows the exact moment he’s been spotted. He doesn't have to understand what they're talking about to know that much. The tone of Princess Satsuki’s voice changes and Prince Daiki’s head shoots up, and sure enough, he cranes his neck to look in his direction, at last making eye contact with Kagami directly. 

Kagami shuffles back behind the curtained arch, heart starting to pound. He's not supposed to be here. He probably should have gotten out of the palace when he had the chance. He's gotten into enough trouble in the short time he's been here. But somehow he stays rooted to the spot when Prince Aomine beams ear to ear at the sight of him.

He's practically bouncing on his toes as he strides towards him, clearly happy to see him. "You're here!" he says, taking Kagami's hands in his own the second he's close enough. They're big and rough and dirty, but Aomine cradles them in a tender grasp like a precious treasure he'd almost lost.  Kagami's breath catches in his throat, looking up into his blue eyes. He's radiant, his beautiful face warm with relief. His hands are so warm and soft...

"How'd you get out? I was just going to come for you in a moment..." He loosens his grip on Kagami's hands, letting them slip out so he can show him his file. 

"Nice," he snickers, and Kagami's shoulders relax a bit more. He's so glad to see him again. For a while he'd thought he might never get to again.

His hand gently touches Kagami's back, arm around him to steer him back the way he came, _out towards the king._ And although finally being with Prince Daiki again gives him some measure of protection in the palace, Kagami would be lying if he didn't admit he was pretty apprehensive.

Figuring his best bet is to just avoid eye contact with the king at all costs, he keeps his head down and lets Aomine lead him. They come to a stop before the king. Kagami can see his robes on the floor, and Princess Satsuki's little feet.

"You escaped." Kagami startles. Shit, he's talking to him directly. Looking up, he finds himself eye to eye with King Aomine's suspicious gaze. Glancing to Daiki for a second, a little unsure, he steels himself and nods a little tentatively, not sure he understood fully.

If he's in trouble for breaking out, then so be it. The way he sees it, it was a false arrest. And Aomine will stand up for him, won't he?... 

They're talking more. Probably about him. Princess Satsuki is chiming in. She and Daiki both sound in good spirits, which should be a good sign, but the piercing look would make anyone nervous.

He has no idea how he’s ended up in front of the king of the Golden Land twice in two days. Fuck knows he’d only ever seen Ceasar from a distance back home. This is absolutely nerve-wracking, standing there to be scrutinized, especially when he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on. The whole chatter goes over his head almost entirely.

He feels a bubbling resentment for the old bastard, who frowns at him like a piece of livestock he’s evaluating, clearly skeptical about his son’s choice. He's a little bitter with Aomine too because he realizes now that...

He's being _shown_ to the king, isn't he. Aomine's showing Kagami to his dad, the big brat— and his dad seems dubious at best.

But Aomine's voice is so confident, his hand a warm and comforting presence at the small of his back. He looks up to find Aomine gazing at him with a tender smile, and he knows that whatever Aomine's saying, he's wholeheartedly vouching for him. Kagami stands taller, feeling his chest swell.

He expects to be dismissed as street trash not worth conversing with directly any longer, lower than dirt and not fit to be company for the king's son, but Kagami can't find disgust in King Aomine's face. In fact, he sees something that almost looks warm and fatherly. He nods after a time.

Princess Satsuki smiles up at him, and Daiki winks.

He’s not sure what’s just happened, but King Aomine says something to the effect of,  _ your country is at war, serve us faithfully, cobbler—  _ and then, more sentimentally, requests,  _ treat my children well, friend of my son—  _

Kagami puts his hand to his heart in solemn oath, still not entirely understanding, but the king seems satisfied. 

Lightning flashes through the window, the storm roiling above the palace, and Kagami stands back and waits as the king bids his children a goodbye. He has to look away for a moment, surprised by the display. He really does just seem like any other loving father suddenly.

“My darlings, take care.” King Aomine embraces Princess Satsuki, stroking a pass over her hair. Prince Daiki stands straight before him, feet together, head high and proud as he receives a hearty clap on the shoulder.

Kagami bows low before they lead him off.  
  


King Aomine’s not such a bad guy.

"This way," Princess Satsuki chirps. "Hurry!"

“Kagami,” Prince Daiki says, a breathy gust escaping him. Some attendants head off before them, and Princess Satsuki follows. They stand behind in the archway a moment.  “I’m so glad you’re safe,” Prince Daiki tells him, a warm confession, arm around him for a moment, letting it linger.

His eyes are so dark and soft, gazing at him like they did when they'd first met. Completely focused on him. It's as if the second he isn't made to focus on his duties, he's immediately absorbed by Kagami again. As if he hasn't anything else to think about in the whole world, not the war, not the One Eyes, not his father's orders. Nothing holds his attention in this moment except him—

"I missed you."

Kagami smiles, happiness blooming in his chest. Cheeks a little warm, he figures this is a good time, so he presents Prince Daiki with the slipper, pleased to have the chance to return it.

Holding it out, he watches Aomine's brows push together, his shoulder's lowering with a sweet sigh. "Ah, Taiga..." He takes the shoe from Kagami and they stand there gazing at each other and glowing until Satsuki circles back and_ahems_ as cheerily as you please, startling them apart.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re coming! Geez!” Prince Daiki blurts, flustered, and Kagami smiles sheepishly. 

They're bickering. Most likely, Satsuki's scolding Aomine and Aomine's sulky about almost being caught kissing Kagami. Or maybe he's more upset they were interrupted, the stupid flirt. Kagami keeps quiet and shuffles along with them as they head down the corridor to the prince’s rooms— different ones this time.

Rather than trailing at the end as he had the first time he’d been taken to the prince’s rooms, Kagami’s bewildered and pleased to find himself surrounded on both sides, prince and princess matching his pace and including him in the middle, talking merrily to each other, talking at him, squabbling. Prince Daiki keeps letting their arms brush and Kagami looks to one of the guards, but they seem to be ignoring it. 

The light atmosphere becomes more urgent when the two of them seem to remember the reason they're all together now. Kagami’s still waiting for an explanation, but he knows well enough that this time it's not some carefree afternoon they're free to spend in Prince Daiki's room, passing the time while he works.

Princess Satsuki is the first to try to give one to him. He thinks she says to Aomine,  _ tell him where we go—  _

Aomine tells him then, seeming slightly abashed,  _ we ride to the mountain of a witch. _ Kagami realizes why when he hesitantly implores him,  _ please accompany us—?  _

He looks into Kagami’s eyes a moment, smile fading anxiously. Satsuki explains some more but there are too many complicated words in there, so he only gets the gist. A brilliant jewel of the desert, a magic mountain. They must cross the desert post-haste to gain some advice from a shaman woman— that’s what he gets out of it. They're going on a journey to try to save the city, and they want Kagami to come.

Things seem to be getting pretty drastic. This is much more serious than he could have foreseen. Is this what the king had asked of him, to accompany Prince Daiki and Princess Satsuki through the desert? Is this what he's unknowingly promised?

Aomine watches him as he thinks, hands in his silk pockets, his gait slow and reluctant. He seems hopeful for an acceptance but looks fully aware that he's asking a lot.

Kagami thinks that his best idea would be to go back to his shop, prepare for war, maybe even make his way out of the city to meet with a caravan going west, but the sense he gets is that Aomine and Satsuki are making this journey in secret. They’re going unaccompanied other than a few guards to attend them. It sounds as though it could be dangerous, and Kagami… what business has he there? How is he even going to be of any help?

Aomine looks disappointed when he hesitates, and at last concedes,  _ you may go home in peace if you refuse—  _

Kagami didn’t know what he would have said about Prince Daiki a few days ago, before he met him. Arrogant, rich, and spoiled, most likely, but he’s helped Kagami. He's listened to him, and when you don't speak, it's rare anyone listens to you. Kagami’s come to like him, and he feels sad to part ways. In a way, he feels compelled to help him, to come with him.

Maybe it makes him a bad person, taking advantage of a bad situation to stay with Aomine a little longer. It feels selfish in a way, to follow his heart so blindly when he knows he should be practical instead. Not run off to a desert mountain on impulse as though they were an eloping couple escaping their traditional parents.

But after all, what was his other plan? He’s not part of the army, and would be part of the civilian crowd quivering within the city and waiting for the walls to come down in the siege. Whether he stays in the city or not, he won’t be able to protect his shoes or his shop from the One Eyes when they come— or from looters, the more likely offenders. He’d floated the idea of fleeing the city while he could anyways, perhaps traveling back home, and this would get him out too— and he’d be with Prince Daiki.

The opportunity seems too good to pass up. Something to tell his grandkids one day if nothing else.

_ Fuck it—  _

Kagami accepts with a nod, and Aomine looks pleased, shoulders dropping in relief. Kagami smiles at him, lost in his eyes, and god, he’s such a sucker. Cupid’s arrow is in there deep—

“Yay!” Satsuki cheers, leaping up between them and seizing them both by an arm, hugging them in. Kagami goes rigid, but Aomine just laughs, low and mellow.   
  
_ ‘At least one of us is excited—’ _ Aomine thinks. 

He’s feeling determined to try his best to uphold the honor of his family, of the country, to do right by father and keep his trust and not betray the faith placed in him. But he’s also feeling very worried, very unsure. He doesn’t want to go on his own. He feels a deep sense of responsibility to take care of Satsuki, to protect her out in the world, and… he’s torn between that feeling of duty to keep her safe, and a whirl of fear— he must protect her, but who is there to protect  _ him? _

And what if after this treacherous journey, they find the witch can’t even help them? What if she refuses? What if the city is lost when they are away and they return home to devastation, to nothing but sand and crumbled pillars. What then? 

But now, at least… At least he won’t face it alone. 

He can’t describe the relief and comfort he derives just knowing he has a friend who will be with them.

He looks into Kagami’s face, creased with hardship beyond his years, but a pleasure to look upon. His eyes feel so warm. A roman nose, chapped lips, thick rugged brows. At ease in the world— not much to lose if the city were to fall. A simple man. 

Aomine has to wonder, with all his worldly goods gone, if they were to return and find the palace destroyed and there was not a coin left to Aomine’s name— if he weren’t a prince anymore, if he didn’t have anything, would Kagami stay at his side?

Would Kagami take him into his home, show him his world as Aomine has shown him his? Would he still love Aomine if he lost everything? If he were a poor man like Kagami, would Kagami still care for him?

His mind is a whirl of emotion and fear. Everything is happening so fast, but he’s made up his mind. He’ll just have to get through it.

Kagami being there will make it easier.  
  


Prince Daiki and Princess Satsuki ready themselves, flitting about the room as they see to final preparations, speaking with staff and guards and advisors sent by the king to see they’re well prepared. Kagami can feel the urgency, hanging around in watchful silence, unable to be of any help. Food and drink and supplies are prepared for them. Camels, guards, and a chest of jewels brought for their departure.

Kagami sits patiently as he waits, belly full and warm. He’d been invited to sit down and eat with Prince Daiki and the princess.

_ “We will eat a bit before we depart—” _ Aomine says, and when Kagami hesitates, he coaxes him to sit down beside him, insisting and insisting. _"You have eaten nothing in that cell, I want you to rest before we go."_

Kagami was starving enough by now that he can only bear to decline once or twice before he gives in and sits with them, folding his legs on the rug. His stomach growls and he gives himself the desperate excuse that it must be okay to accept, or Prince Daiki wouldn’t insist so much— and besides, if he’d wanted to get Kagami in his debt he’s already had plenty of opportunities— 

Prince Daiki sits nice and close, scooting towards him until their knees touch when he crosses his legs, feet tucked in.  _ Whoa—  _ Thrilled, Kagami’s face heats up and he rubs his sweaty palms on his thighs. 

Eating a bit apparently means _fucking feast_ to Prince Daiki.

Kagami’s mouth waters at the mezze spread set out before them. Princess Satsuki and Prince Daiki pick what they want— cheese, melon, nuts, thick yogurt, olives, fava beans, eggs, falafel— they select the best pieces with their fingers and eat it off their own plates. Kagami takes a modest portion after they both start to eat, and picks at it, his stomach howling.

It’s fucking delicious— oh god.

He wipes hummus and haydari off his plate with a piece of pita and tries not to fucking weep actual tears at how good it tastes.

He’s still absolutely starving, but doesn’t dare take more, sitting quietly as Aomine hums and tries to talk with him as he snacks, kind and gentle, a clear boyish pleasure in his face to be in Kagami’s company again.

_ "You have been out of the city before? I have not—"  _ he says, and Kagami nods his head, hands in his lap.

That makes him frown when he runs the words back again. Had he heard that right? He’s… never been outside before? Never? Kagami blinks, suddenly finding him oddly innocent.

_ “You will show us.” _ Kagami looks up and finds Aomine smiling. He ducks his head a little. 

_ Fuck,  _ he’s gonna’ show them, is he? Fuck.  _ Fuck— _

“ _ Father tells us where we go. You need not find the way alone,” _ Princess Satsuki assures him, and then scolds,  _ “Do not tease, my brother—” _

Kagami untenses, and Aomine’s eyes twinkle. He huffs and purses his lips, and Prince Daiki laughs. He never can stay frowning when he hears him laughing. Brat. 

“You have seen the desert?” Kagami nods, and feels gladdened to hear the prince pose him with simpler and simpler questions, dropping his formal speech entirely and dumbing It down for him out of consideration. It’s a little irksome to be talked to like he's stupid, but if it means he can actually understand more, than he won't complain.

“How is it like—?” It’s clearly true. He’s never seen the outside. He must have spent his whole life in the palace. He's like a butterfly in a jar, fluttering excitedly as the lid's finally about to be taken off. Aomine leans in, avidly awaiting Kagami’s response.

_ Sand and sun, _ he wants to say.  _ An endless ocean of land. Heartless and beautiful. That's the desert.  _ But all he can think to do is wave a hand and fan his face.

“Hmmm,” Aomine muses, sucking the pit out of an olive. 

They bring more food and Kagami is taken aback— there's _more?_ He thought this was supposed to be a snack, is this the evening meal? Fuck  _ me. _

His stomach practically caves in, fuck, it smells great. Grilled lamb kebabs, stuffed veggie sarma, spiced polow, stacks of bread, tureens of rice and khoresh stew. Water, pomegranate juice, fruit nectar, Kagami couldn’t have dreamed up such a heavenly smell. 

Aomine is served first, digging in, and Kagami last, nibbling and trying to keep himself reigned in, but he knows he’s shoveling it down like it’s the last meal of the damned. 

Kagami doesn’t serve himself, meaning to stop after the heaping plateful Aomine had set him with, but every time his plate starts to empty, Aomine calls for an attendant to pile it again, top up his glass, perhaps having caught on that he was too hesitant to take the liberty himself— or had noticed that the servants avoid him like the plague and is trying to retrain their rudeness.

_ “You like this? Try this—” _ He coaxes him to take a taste of everything, seeming pleased just to see him eat. Kagami feels uncomfortable for a time, but eventually he gets the idea that Aomine is upset about his time in the cell and is probably trying to spoil him or something. His naivety in assuming its the first time Kagami's gone a few days without food is very endearing, and Kagami resigns himself to allowing Aomine to fatten him up if he wishes.

He’s never been invited into a home in the city, but the prince is a fucking hospitable host.

He could still pack away a good deal, but when Aomine fills up, nibbling on some pieces of fruit— figs, dates, and pears— he seems to assume Kagami is full too, and finally leaves him be. 

When Kagami sits back with a sigh, feeling satisfied, Prince Aomine holds out some pomegranate beads on his palm and urges him to try. Kagami sits up and reaches out to take them, right from the prince’s hand. His fingers pinch in the center of the prince’s palm, into the juice, to take up the seeds. He can’t help but think that it feels very intimate, to touch like this.

When he looks up, the prince’s lips are parted, breath coming through in a little puff, his eyes lifted to Kagami’s beneath heavy lids, and Kagami feels his face burst into flames. He gulps hard, fingertips fumbling, and glares. Doesn't he care that others can see? _You insatiable flirt, can you stop for even five minutes? _His scowling just makes Aomine smirk and laugh. Kagami bares his teeth. _Spoiled, obscene pervert fed from a golden spoon._

It’s such an obvious display that Satsuki pointedly averts her eyes, nose in her wine glass, and Kagami quickly snaps his hand back, fingertips colored red.

Aomine snorts, sucking the juice from his palm. He eyes Kagami and wipes his hand on a linen cloth, leaving a bright stain. 

The food is taken away and Kagami clasps his hands and bows his head in gratitude—  _ Thank you. _ Aomine smiles and waves it off, and Kagami waits around while the two sit and smoke for a time.

It’s almost time to go. Kagami hurries to stand up when Prince Daiki rises and stretches. He follows a step behind him as he strolls to an archway that seems to lead to some private quarters. He places a hand on Kagami’s back, light and warm.

“Kagami, I am glad you come with us,” he tells him. “I thank you.” Kagami smiles. “Wait a little, won’t you? You must be so tired... Please rest here. I'll come back soon.” Kagami nods, fiddling his thumbs.

“You are safe to wait here. Hanamiya won’t get you this time,” Aomine teases, and Kagami grins. 

They leave him to make some last minute preparations. In the meantime, some guards direct Kagami downstairs with them to the awaiting caravan. He’s to lead a camel apparently, which is news to him. He can’t help but feel intimidated by the sight of it, tall neck, big feet, but he walks up with what he hopes is confidence— animals can sense fear, right — and puts a hesitant hand out to its nose. Maybe it's like a dog and it'll want to smell...?

It snorts and he darts his hand back quickly. It chews its cud and seems to narrow its eyes at him, but it doesn’t spit.

_ What should I call him.  _ Kagami huffs a laugh—  _ Hostilius Maximus. _

He waves some flies away and cautiously moves to stand at its side so it can see him better. He scratches its neck, and Max lowers his head so he can take the bridle reigns in hand.

When Prince Daiki and Princess Satsuki come down, they’re in plainer clothes. They still seem rich and lavish to Kagami, but by comparison, they’re much more subdued— not quite as sparkly. There's no jewelry and no decoration to the fabric, but Kagami can’t help but find Aomine very handsome in such get-up. He looks almost common. He's in dark blue shalwar tied with a sash and a matching kaftan. A dark keffiyeh cloth is over his head, held in place with a black agal. Princess Satsuki looks very unassuming, her hair and face covered. Four large eunuch guards come behind them.

“Ready?” Aomine prompts and Kagami nods.  
  


As he’ll ever be.  
  


Careful to keep his clumsy feet in check, Kagami quietly treads up a stone staircase that leads up from a passageway beneath the palace. The guards direct him down through the corridor and Kagami follows the straight hall underneath the city all the way to the end. 

The steps at the end of the hall lead them outside. He peeks his head out into the night. The city is dark and purple underneath a humongous summer storm. They’re just outside the high wall that encloses the entire country, encircled by a smooth paved dock that stretches around the city limits in a large ring, allowing the river that cuts in from the north to flow around the city to either side and exit to the south. 

Kagami leans out, peers around, then waves his hand when he doesn’t see anyone. He steps out and leads Max by the reins. He plods up the steps and alongside him, when Kagami tugs, big and ungainly but obedient. The four guards follow his signal, carrying a white palanquin on gold posts emblazoned with the sun symbol of the Golden City.

Honestly, Kagami doesn’t understand the point of dressing incognito if the palanquin has the palace banner. They might as well scream that they’re an envoy from the king, but it’s not his business.

Aomine and Satsuki peek out from a netted section in the interior curtain that they’ve folded back to get a view, marvelling wide-eyed at their first glimpse of the outside world. The smooth white wall towers above and the crystal blue river leads through the smooth stone-paved waterway alongside them, flowing out of the city and into the sands.

They sit inside the cushioned palanquin with a big jeweled casket, brought to give to the witch in exchange for her help.

The guards move to load the palanquin onto a gondola waiting in the river moat, filled up with supplies.  Kagami needs some help getting Max to get in the other gondola with him, so the guards get out and push while he drags him.  _ Come on, big guy, just— that’s it, one foot— Fuck, this isn’t gonna’ work—  _

They get Max to put one big foot in, but the boat rocks wildly, unbalanced. The guards shove from behind and Max stumbles in, nearly capsizing it, but it settles, the tremendous weight causing it to rest low in the water. Kagami hops in and pats his hump, arm around his furred neck. _Good boy, good boy—_ _now don’t shit in the boat, okay?_

Checking that he’s settled, Kagami hops back out to hold the other gondola still while they load the palanquin. He halfheartedly peeks at the curtains to see if Aomine's looking out, but the prince and princess are quiet in there, and the curtains are still. 

The thunder and lightning are so loud and terrible above them, but Kagami notices that no rain has fallen. He has a moment to find this strange, seeing to the knots keeping the gondolas fastened to the dock, when he hears a sudden squeal of a horse and a clatter of iron horseshoes.

He's startled, more wound up than he’d realized, and looks up as a black horse races down the drawbridge above them. A black figure rimmed with gold flees the city, and Kagami recognizes Hanamiya jerking a vulture’s leash. It flies up and lands on the horse’s rump, talons first.

Kagami hisses. _ Ooh, damn—  _

The horse rears up in shock, screaming out, and a glint of light flashes as gold clanks together in a large rucksack on Hanamiya’s back. A crack of the riding crop sounds and the thunder of hooves rattles away as the horse, Phido, and Hanamiya gallop across the drawbridge. They all stare up in surprise, quiet and unmoving until they're gone.  
  


Aomine pulls open the window panel to look out, nervous even within the curtained carriage and its illusion of comfort and safety. He can tell they’ve been set upon the boat. The swaying of the water beneath them is absolutely nerve-wracking, and he clings to the cushioned base of the palanquin, although it does little good to hold them still. When he hears the screech from outside, he freezes.

_ “What was that?” _ he whispers, but Satsuki is silent, listening. “Did you hear that?” he urges.

A loud splash suddenly _cracks_ against the surface of the river outside, and Aomine jumps. “I did,” she says, and peeks out the curtain, parting it with her hands. 

“Hey, don’t!” he scolds, pulling her back. “Stay in!”

“Didn’t you hear that splash?”

“Stay  _ in!” _ he whisper-shrieks, and she rolls her eyes with a very un-princess-like groan.  


Kagami, on the outside, looks over with confusion to the rippling surface of the river. What the fuck was that? 

He hadn’t seen a moment before, Kuroko, darting from the shadows along the mooring rope, almost to the gondola when he’d fallen in, startled by the horses’s cry, and gone  _ splash _ , down into the river.

At least he got a bath this time, a brown and grey cloud forming around him in the water.

The guards don’t seem to have noticed, or just don’t think it’s of any concern, because they climb in with the palanquin and untie the gondola. Kagami shakes his head, stepping back in with Max. There’s a break in the clouds above them, the storm parting to mark their journey, and Kagami pushes the gondola off from the wall, floating out onto the river.

The crescent moon and stars reflect in the water before them, shining down through the gap in the clouds. 

He takes a gusty breath, rubbing Max’s bristly fur to keep him calm on the water. He doesn’t know where they’re going or how he’s supposed to guide any of them. This may have been a mistake, but there’s no going back now, is there.  


Under the shadow of the clouds, down in the black-shrouded part of the city, gallops Hanamiya, riding towards the storm ridden mountains in the east. Kagami’s boat winds up the river in the other direction towards the desert, floating silently over the mirror surface of the water until they reach their stop and get out. 

And then they begin the long and arduous journey towards the witch’s mountain, walking late into the night.


	23. Caravan! Charge!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prince's entourage comes across some desert hooligans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my favorite chapter of the fic bar none.
> 
> Roll your mouse over the latin for a pop-up translation.

In the middle of a vast and empty desert, a colony of tattered brigands sit around hopelessly, stultified and bored, roasting in the heat.

The heat, _god,_ the heat is intense. The bed of sand, all the tiny infinitesimal pieces of rock, they hold in the sun’s rays like a gigantic oven, the air rising in shimmering waves. There's not a single breeze today, and not a single cloud.

The lot of them lay around on a vast and inhospitable stretch of dead earth, nothing better to do. The sun has bleached the color out of them, and everything is in tones of sepia as far as the eye can see, except for the white bones littering their camp.

The men are huge, terrible-looking, but chicken-hearted beasts. Heavily muscled, they’re dented and bashed, eyes and teeth missing, scarred hides, and tough filthy skin. What clothing they have is made of remnants of bygone days. Half a boot, a piece of a sock, a third of a hat, all futilely tied together. All they have for shade are clotheslines and umbrellas made of bones and catgut strings.

A brigand lies on his stomach, humming and building up a tall pile of bones like a house of cards, stacking vertebrae up into a tower. Others sit and talk, or try to sleep in some scant shade cast by someone else’s bulk.

Away from the rest, Wakamatsu stands leaning against a flimsy wood pole staked into the ground, a hand up to shield his eyes from the glare. What does he see, each way he looks, out to the flat horizon—? Sand. 

And there. Sand. And that way— _fucking sand.  
_

His life is bullshit. 

Day in and day out of endless boredom, laying around under the baking sun. Sun up, sun down, sand, heat, and the same ugly faces. The monotony is unbearable.

He and the others weren’t always layabout desert bums eating lizards and roasting like hogs. They don’t look it anymore, but once they were soldiers of the king, sent out into the desert on patrol what must’ve been around five years ago now.

Yeah. Actual _years._

Wakamatsu grinds his teeth. That fuckhead prince.

If he ever sees civilization again, so help him, he’s gonna’ let it _ rip— _

He stands in the burning hot sand and digs his finger in his ear, in his nose, in his teeth. Sand, sand, sand, everywhere. Fuck sand.

He’s almost positive that they were just forgotten out here. Why else have they not been summoned home or received any word in five fucking years, even to be told to maintain their squad. Why have they heard nothing?

But he’s a faithful soldier. Wakamatsu’s out here wasting his young years, because goddamnit if you learn one thing in Rome, it’s that you keep your post. 

And if he’s done one thing, he’s kept his goddamn post.

But he's exhausted. He's leathery skinned and there’s sand in between his teeth, in his snot when he blows his nose into his hand, fuck, it feels like sandpaper, _it’s_ _in the corners of his eyes— _ the tiny grains have rubbed him dirty and raw, and the sun has bleached his hair a few shades lighter than his skin, which has gone dark and brown. 

He deserves a furlough. He’s sweat blood for the army, he’s suffered for the crown, no one can say he hasn’t paid his fucking dues. This was a hard-ass post, he deserves a _ year’s _ fucking furlough. He deserves a lamb roast and a girlfriend and a cask of wine. 

Wakamatsu was part of the plebian class back in the Republic, was sold by his father at age eleven to pay a debt, and had ended up in the slave trade in the East. He’d been allowed work in the palace at thirteen, a good opportunity for him, and had narrowly avoided becoming a eunuch palace worker by joining this patrol— after a year of training, he was a young soldier, ambitious and ready to be dedicated to the king who would set him free. Ten years of work and he’ll be manumitted.

But now. The glitter’s worn off entirely— so much so that he’s starting to think he would’ve given up his nads if he could change his mind and have stayed and worked in the palace instead. Even if that meant fanning the prince with a fucking palm leaf like a peon, at least he would’ve gotten some shade.

Fuck knows he could use some shade.

The heat, it’s brutal. Unending. Unrelenting. There’s not a cloud in the sky, day after day, no refuge, no trees to provide shade. It rains maybe once a year, flash floods drowning the area, but the rest of the time, the baking heat of the sand is positively oppressive. Sand— flat sand everywhere. It’s enough to make a man go mad, same as sailors on the open sea with nothing but the horizon to stare at.

Well they’d already gone crazy for sure after like three months, and it’s been five years now. Five. Fucking. _ Years._ Spending all day laying and waiting around for nothing. Same old, same old. Fuck, he's passed twenty and at this rate he’s going to grow old and _ die _ out here! He’d always wanted a wife and a family, and instead he’s stuck with these mugs.

It’s a total sausage fest out here and it’s gotten truly excruciating. They’re all stinky and sweaty and ugly, and all there is to bathe out here with is _sand— _Wakamatsu’s one of the youngest ones too, so he’s taking it the hardest perhaps.

One woman, that’s all he asks. Even an old one, even an ugly one, god, the sight of an exposed ankle would be enough to last him months. Venus, just _ have mercy— _

Their leader, Imayoshi, is rambling pointlessly as always and Wakamatsu tries to tune out his droning. He thinks he can see something in the distance. It may just be his eyes tricking him as usual, but the dark speck doesn’t disappear when he blinks.

“Hey, anyone else see that?” he grunts.

“Just a mirage, my boy.” Imayoshi blindly draws senseless maps in the sand, sifting it through his fingers and muttering to himself. “Ahh, times have changed, Goolie—”

“Fucking _ who? _” Wakamatsu grumbles.

“Things aren’t what they used to be.”

“Nope. It used to be different,” Susa agreed. Fuck, don’t encourage him.

Wakamatsu rolls his eyes. “You’re not old men, will you give it a rest,” he gripes. “You’re like, thirty at the _ most.” _

“Ali Baba, there wasn’t a better man under the sun—” “Sinbad. They don’t make ‘em like him anymore.”

Wakamatsu groans aloud, irritated.

Susa rolls on the ground, humming and piling the bones up. The pile is stacked high by now, a white tower of vertebrae precariously balancing. 

Infuriatingly easygoing, the older brother type, Susa tries to soothe his bad mood. “Wakamatsu, c’mon man...”

“Shut up!” he snaps. 

“Geez, so loud—”

Squinting, Wakamatsu shields his eyes and stares for a long time, uninterrupted.

“... What the hell is he doing?” he mutters at last, and all of a sudden, on the horizon beyond, a tiny shouting speck appears, running like crazy.

It’s Sakurai, booking it across the sand.

“What the hell?!” Wakamatsu blurts, and some of the guys pick their heads up.

“Sorry!” he shrieks and gasps as he streaks towards them. “But listen! There’s a caravan coming! Here comes a caravan!” he continues, and Wakamatsu just squints in utter confusion until he’s almost upon them. 

“Ca—ra—vaaan!” the twig-armed mess screams, and when he can’t stop quick enough, he smashes through their pile of bones through the center of camp, kicking up a wave of sand with his sliding feet, and smashes into poor Imayoshi, too blind to see him coming. Sakurai hits him and knocks him flat, and then bowls into Wakamatsu, who goes down and gets a mouthful of sand.

“Fuck!” he hollers.

“Sorry! Sorry—!” Sakurai squeals, shoulders hunched, hands clasped beneath his chin as he scrambles to right himself, looking stunned while the others jeer and laugh and shove him.

_ “You!” _ Wakamatsu yells, spitting sand and wiping his face, eyes streaming. He jumps to his feet and throws down a bone. “Will you stop fucking around!” Spitting and choking on sand, he kicks the scattered bones and storms towards Sakurai, raging mad. _Oh, he's gonna get it._

“I’ve had it with you! I’m gonna’ wring your neck!” There’s a lot of laughing and shouting going on, some of them goading him on and others scolding him to leave Sakurai alone, _ the heat’s gone to your head again, kid, leave him be, _but they play rough in the camp and there’s no use getting Wakamatsu to stop once he’s flipped his bricks, so Sakurai’s on his own, shrinking up like a mouse, scrambling away from him.

“C’mere, _ ooh,_ I’m gonna’ fuck you up! You little shit! Es stultior asino!_” _He’s trying to hide behind Imayoshi, darting back and forth when Wakamatsu lunges at him. “C’mere! _ C’mere—!” _

He chases him around and lets his fury burn hot, because what else is there to do but bully Sakurai, beat each other up, and piss in the sand.

Wakamatsu grabs him by the collar and throws him back and forth a few times to watch his head flop, but stops to give him a second to say something, scowling into his face. “I’m sorry, Wakamatsu!” he squeaks. “But it is!”

“The fuck is!”

“A caravan!” 

“A caravan?” Imayoshi voices, still raspy from coughing up sand, and Wakamatsu’s head snaps up, still scowling, Sakurai hanging from his grip on his shirt. “A caravan!” he crows in delight, and everyone laying around groaning and trying to get the bones back where they should be starts to get excited. 

Wakamatsu’s shoulders drop as his cohorts start to shout and leap and body slam each other, falling all over the place and rolling in the sand. 

“A caravan!” — “Jewels!” — “Horses!” — “Food and drink!” — “Women!”

_ Women— _Wakamatsu thinks, perking up.

“Why didn’t you say so before!” he yells, throwing Sakurai down in a heap.

“Sorry!” 

“What do we do now then?” Susa voices, and they all quiet.

Imayoshi smiles. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Oh…” Wakamatsu ponders. “Yeah, what _do_ we do now.” He scratches his head and frowns. He tries to think but the sun’s too hot. It’s like his brain is cooking. He’s stumped. Maybe they can just walk up to them and be rescued. Told directions back to the Golden Land. Ask for some food.

Not everyone has such a stupid simple heart. Most everyone else is grinning, looking vaguely sinister. Desperation has made them mean. They are technically still the king’s men, but they’ve been out long enough that loyalties have run thin. Most of the group are older than him, and much less stubborn about the principle of duty and of _ keeping their post. _

And if Wakamatsu’s reading the energy correctly, they want to… _ jump _ this caravan.  
  
Imayoshi, the de facto leader, merely because he’d been the leader of their troup when they’d left the city— and later when the group had cracked under the shittiness of their desperation and started to fight for dominance, Imayoshi had come out on top there too surprisingly, despite being nearly blind now due to sand man’s eye— he calms them down.

“Let me remind you gentlemen, when in doubt, we consult the handbook.” 

Wakamatsu lets his head drop back and groans. 

That old worm-eaten thing, one of the items they still had from when they’d been sent out originally. And let him tell you, he’s sick of hearing about it. Imayoshi brings it out every time there’s a serious squabble and makes them listen to him read. Wakamatsu has to hear it the most because some people think he has a hot head and needs to learn _ temperance— _whatever the fuck that means. He’s perfectly temperate. He’s got plenty of temper.

Imayoshi digs down in the sand and pulls up an old gunny sack. He opens the drawstring and pulls out a dusty booklet, setting it on his lap. Spiders and bugs scatter from the cover. The other men huddle around him, staring in religious awe, as if Jupiter’s lightning bolt has been produced. 

Wakamatsu grumbles and shoves his hands into his armpits. “The book—” “The book—” “The book of words—” He grinds his jaw back and forth.

The book is cracked open and flies, gnats, and bugs jump out, crawling away. He swears to fuck he sees someone snap one up into their mouth. Imayoshi finds the first line on a desiccated crumbling page with his finger, and leans in, squinting, having gone blind as a bat from too much exposure to the sun reflecting off the sand.

“Alph— is for ambush,” he reads.

“Ambush!” they all cry, breaking into raucous noise. “Ambush—!” “Ambush them!”

_ “Shut up!” _Wakamatsu bursts.

“Bet— is for burglary.”

“Burglary—” “Burglary—” they mutter back and forth, more quietly this time. Wakamatsu grinds his teeth, a nerve pinching in his forehead.

“Kap is for…. Car…. car-a-van, attacks on caravan, right…” Squinting, he tries to make out the letters, his nose nearly touching the page. The brigands all push forward to see, which sucks, because man, they stink in a crowd.

They listen closely, waiting for Imayoshi’s instructions, until at last he slowly makes out, “The brigands will take up… position behind a rock!”

They all crane their necks as one, looking around for a rock.

“A rock?” Susa says. “Where’s a rock.”

“I don’t see it!” Sakurai chirps, one of the shortest among them. 

"Anyone see one, men?"

“I can't see a thing,” Imayoshi snarks, “Have you seen a rock?”

“There!” Wakamatsu calls. “Over there! And isn’t it looking well!” he whistles, grinning.

A small rock sticks out of the sand in the distance.

“Right then!” Imayoshi clears his throat, and as if they’re back in the army again, he barks, “Take up your positions!” sounding very pleased with himself. 

There’s a terrible stampede, the lot of them stumbling and falling, going down hard in the sand as all of the brigands stream off at once towards the rock, cheering and yelling. They're excited more than anything to just be _ doing _ something, regardless of what it is, for the first time in ages. 

Even Wakamatsu has to admit this is better than sitting and thinking about sand. 

Tiny, tiny ants appear on the horizon, far off in the distance of the empty sands. Those ants are the figures of the approaching caravan.

Aomine and the rest of the party had left the gondola back at the riverside and had started their trek through the desert late last night, and continued that morning at sun-up.

Kagami is out in the front, leading Max the camel, and the guards follow behind carrying the palanquin with the prince and princess inside.

And a safe distance behind stumbles an already exhausted Kuroko.

It is _ hot— _

He’s on his knees, shuffling and crawling over the desert sands, unfastening jugs, pots, and caskets as he goes, a trail of abandoned loot left behind him. 

It’s so hot it feels like he's in hell. Moving is a tremendous effort. Nothing to do but lay down and pant. Kuroko squints into the sun's glare towards the big guy out front, still plodding along at a steady pace.

Fuck, how the hell is he bearing it—? Hasn't he spent his time cooped up in a dark shoe-shop? He must have some kind of iron will to be able to keep going like that... 

Kagami, sweating and baking in the heat, is really suffering. His sandals act as a heavy scoop with every step he takes, shoveling a burning hot load of sand under the sole of his foot and weighing him down. 

He’s jealous of Max, his awkward gait and big flat feet moving easily over the top of the sand, knobby knees bobbing. He’d try to hop on his hump and get a ride, no matter how painful, if not for all the bags already hung on his sides, and settles for stumbling through the sand alongside him. He keeps slipping on occasion when his sandal catches the sand, making him stagger and yank on Max’s bridle. He hasn’t spat on Kagami yet but it’s probably coming at this rate.

Fuck, it’s really miserable. He doesn’t remember the conditions being so harsh when he was a kid, traveling out to the Golden City with Kiyoshi, but then they’d come on a route further south, nearer the sea. There had at least been a _ breeze. _This heat, instead, is unrelenting, not a single cloud to shield him from the cruel sun. The tops of his shoulders are blistering hot and the sand reflects the sun’s rays so brightly he has to squint his eyes almost shut to try to shield them from the glare. He's going to cook out here... He's going to die...

He looks back and sees Aomine smiling at him from the palanquin through a netted window patch near the top. He smiles back, standing up straight and recharging his steps with resolve.

Aomine sighs and closes the window to keep out the heat.

After the initial excitement of leaving the city and being _ out in the world,_ Aomine’s been mostly bored. There’s nothing to do but lay around inside the palanquin, its rhythmic movements rocking him back and forth, lulling him into a doze. 

They’re dressed in their simplest clothes, still pretty opulent in comparison to Kagami’s rags, but to Aomine they’re awful. He feels as plain as a grey brick. No jewelry, no decoration. Less conspicuous, sure, but he feels as simple as a peasant.

Satsuki’s sitting up, trying to plan and talk to him, her hands filled with decorative mamluk cards as she wonders aloud about the witch, about home, about the One Eyes, and about where the gold balls have gone— but Aomine is drowsy, playing his cards lazily and letting her trounce him easily. Letting her— _ as if she couldn’t just as easily if he were fully alert. _

He’d slept badly. Last night they’d gotten off the gondolas and had started their trek through the desert. Then when the ominous lightning storm finally began to calm, they’d come to rest and make camp late in the night. He couldn’t seem to drift off, laying awake and thinking, spiraling into a dark night of the soul.

He’d just swirled back and forth between one worried set of thoughts and then the next. By the end of it he was feeling really down. 

Father is trusting in him, and it’s the first time Aomine’s really dedicated himself to taking on the weight of his crown, and it’s heavy. He feels his knees will collapse at any moment and he'll be crushed. The pressure, he wants to escape it, but he can’t. He can’t run away this time, and the thought of failing, failing Father, failing their country when it’s so vitally important that he come through, it chokes him. It _ petrifies _ him. 

He wants to talk to someone about it, but he feels he can’t open up to Satsuki about those doubts. He can't tell her what a coward he is, that he doesn't have the strength to be brave to the end. He doesn’t want to sap her confidence, if anything. Never mind the shame of such an admission. She’s so brilliant, she’s perfect, and so motivated. She’s so determined to make Father proud, but Aomine… he feels so small.

At last, he’d peeked his head out of the tent. Kagami was sitting at the edge of camp, looking at the sky.

The desert's cold at night, making Aomine draw his robe around his neck. The guards eyed him, but they didn’t say anything as he climbed out of the palanquin. His slippers sank into the cold sand and filled with the grains immediately, rough and itchy. He shut the curtain behind him to keep the warmth in with Satsuki, who slept peacefully. 

He padded over to Kagami, who sat with his arms around his legs to keep warm. His sweet nose and the apples of his cheeks were pink with cold as he looked up at the crescent moon. When Aomine walked up to him, he looked up. 

“... Can I sit?” Kagami blinked, then nodded after a beat, and Aomine settled beside him. Unused to sitting without a pillow, he shifted a bit to get comfortable on the ground, feeling stiff. Kagami watched him, then pointed back to the palanquin and rubbed his hands together, breathing into them. Telling him to go back and keep warm, maybe.

Aomine shook his head. “No, I…” 

_ I can’t sleep— Every time I close my eyes I hear Father saying how much we’ve grown up. I see him looking at me like he’s so proud that I’m finally ready. But I’m not. _

Aomine wrapped his robe around himself, legs and feet pulled into it, arms snugly folded into his big sleeves. He avoided Kagami’s questioning gaze and looked at the moon himself. It looked the same as from inside the palace garden. Somehow he’d expected it to look different. He'd thought he would feel different out in the world. Wiser. Stronger. Older. Better. But he’s still the same pathetic brat who’s playing at being a grown-up. Who can’t do anything for himself.

Kagami was trying to catch his eye with a frown. Aomine let out a long sigh and grimaced. “I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this,” he said. “I… I don’t know what to do, Kagami,” he admitted at last, hugging his knees and letting his head drop. “Father’s counting on us… On me.”

Fidgeting and feeling so very small and pathetic, he murmured, “What if the witch can’t help us? How can I return empty-handed? The hopes of the kingdom are riding on us.” Biting his lips, he said, “I feel so… so awful. This is my chance to prove I can lead the empire and that I’m ready to take the throne in a time of hardship.” He poked a fingertip into the sand and pinched some, rubbing it between his fingertips. “I’m scared to let them down.”

Admitting he’s scared. It felt sick coming out. He wondered if Kagami felt differently about him now, seeing that he’s not the confident person he’d come off as when they’d met, spilling his fears and doubts to him. He wondered if Kagami thought of him as a pathetic brat, spoiled and helpless.

“Do you know how that feels?” Silence— Aomine tipped his head back. Looked at the moon and sighed. 

“I guess the scary part is… maybe I’m just now realizing that my life…” He put a hand to his face. “I haven’t had any direction until now. I guess I just drifted along. And I didn’t really care.”

He suddenly felt desperately sad, a fierce ache in his chest. “But now I see that I haven't had any purpose in life. I think I lost it a long time ago.”

A little breath of air rose up above him in a puff of mist, cold enough to fog. “Can I even get it back. If I ever had it at all.”

Kagami was quiet next to him. 

Aomine wanted to scoff it all off, having shown too much of his vulnerable heart. He wanted to draw it back in and protect it from ridicule. He didn't know why he'd shared that with him. Kagami couldn't possibly know how it’s like to have the entire kingdom resting on him. How it’s like to be raised and groomed to grow into the perfect heir, to feel everyone standing there watching him, waiting for him to blossom into his potential, but secretly felt inside that he can only disappoint them, that he will inevitably fall short. It's better not to try... it's better not to get anyone's hopes up.

But then, Kagami hasn’t run from his problems since birth. He hasn’t been able to take advantage of the happy life provided to Aomine by his parents, he hasn’t been given any escape from the harsh world. Kagami was of low birth. He hasn’t been afforded the safe haven that Aomine had been given. He’s had to struggle and _ try _ and work every day of his life, hasn’t he.

And he hasn’t bent or broken. Such a simple existence, and yet he’s borne it so gracefully. He’s met those challenges and they’ve brought him here. He'd remained honest and kind-hearted and filled with spirit. 

Aomine felt his shoulders ease. Kagami didn’t move, and when Aomine took a calming breath, he didn't feel judgement, he didn't feel Kagami pulling away in disappointment. He just listened. He didn't talk or try to comfort him, to brush away his worries. He just listened...

At last, Kagami put a tentative hand on Aomine’s shoulder, rubbing it a little, and Aomine felt heartened. 

Unbeknownst to him, he’d been rambling on, and Kagami, who had indeed listened earnestly with a genuine effort, hadn’t understood more than half of what he’d said, mostly just picking up on the fact that he was distraught. 

But Aomine didn't need to know that— because despite Kagami’s lack of understanding, Aomine felt immensely better, looking encouraged, and that’s what matters.

He sat next to Kagami in the cold night, sand creeping into his silk clothes and gritting between his toes, rough and grainy on his smooth unblemished skin. He looked at the stars with him, the beautiful crescent moon, and felt that he could stay out here with Kagami forever, just the two of them. At last, he was coaxed by their attendant to get back into his tent and sleep. And sleep, he did, feeling much better— 

In the morning, they'd eaten together, sitting in the light of the dawn, still gentle and pleasantly warm, and then they'd begun their arduous trek through the desert. 

It is _ hot. _ He and Satsuki are roasting in the tent, too sluggish to move much. And poor Kagami’s out there roasting in the beating sun, getting bit by camel flies and burnt by the sand covering his bare toes.

They’d traveled for a time during the day and stopped to eat the midday meal, at which point Aomine had exited the curtains to sit with Kagami in the shade cast by the palanquin. Scolded by Satsuki and their attendant to get back in, Aomine ignored them and offered Kagami some water to cool his brow, and gave him his scarf to wrap around his head so he could cover his hair and shade his eyes. 

"That looks like it hurts... You're so burnt already," he notes, using a paper fan to beat some air in Kagami's direction. Kagami just closes his eyes, sweating and suffering silently, breathing hard. His poor face, his exposed arms and neck, they’re all bright red and blistering. 

Aomine feels such pity for him that he ignores the fact that others should serve and attend him, not the other way around. He shouldn't be spending his energy fanning and shading a person of such little worth, or giving them his own water— but Kagami's not of little worth. He's worth more than all his precious jewels. More than his favorite pairs of shoes.

"You've gone from white to pink already, at this rate you'll burn up. Come here and take my scarf." Opening his eyes, streaked with grit, Kagami holds still as Aomine removes the agal from his own head and unwraps his keffiyeh scarf. Immediately, the hot sun strikes him on his dark hair, heating him up and blazing on his neck.

After blinking a few times, stunned, Kagami looks around uncertainly and shakes his head. _No, no, I'm fine..._

"I insist. I have others. I'll be in the shade as we travel anyway." Hesitantly, Kagami takes the scarf and drapes it over his head, allowing Aomine to fit the agal over it, pushing it down onto his head to hold it in place. Kagami pulls the bottom of the scarf up and tucks it around his face, covering his nose and mouth as a dust shield. He looks up, brown eyes shaded beneath the edge of the cloth, seeking out Aomine's. 

"Isn't that better," he murmurs, gazing at him. "... My, it's hot, isn't it..." Kagami coughs and looks away, which makes Aomine laugh. So shy and fun to tease...

Satsuki looks out and practically shrieks. "Daiki! Get inside this instant and cover your head!" Groaning, he obeys, and is swatted the second he's back under the curtains.

"Ahh, Satsuki, lighten up. Don't interrupt a man when he's wooing." He nods his head forward when Satsuki pulls his robes to make him bend over so she can reach his head to cover him up with his spare keffiyeh.

"Wooing, my foot! How obscene! You could stand to be a bit less obvious in front of the servants! What would Father say?"

"Good thing he's not here to say anything, isn't it," he snarks. "And I'll be obscene if I choose."

That earns him a pinch to the arm.

"Ow! Hey, instead of scolding me, you could join the fun." Swatting aside her hands as she throws a scarf over his head, still hot from the sun, he says, "Eat outside with me, it won't kill you. Who's going to know."

"..." He can't see Satsuki's face under her thick veil, but her eyes are glaring. 

"Aw, what happened to the brave princess, Ms. Witch-negotiator-in-chief? You were never such a stick in the mud before. Now that we're finally not being supervised every second, you're going to criticize me?"

"I'm not," she protests. "I just want you to stay focused on our task. Don't forget we're out here for a reason." Aomine frowns, shoulders dropping. "To save our home," Satsuki insists. "Not so you can make a fool of yourself." 

Aomine sulks. He doesn't want to fight. He'd thought she was on his side...

"When did you get to be such a rule-follower. I thought you liked Kagami."

"... I do."

"Then how is it improper to sit and eat a meal with him."

"I didn't say it was."

She sighs, then looks down, clasping her hands, and Aomine's hackles lower. Perhaps she's just as anxious as he is. She's twisted up about all this too. Maybe she's just showing it in a different way.

"You know, you don't always have to carry everything," he tells her, sighing. "You can rely on me. I won't let you down this time. So please don't worry so much." Satsuki looks up, blinking rapidly.

"... Yes, you're right."

Aomine huffs, smiling, and pulls her in for a quick hug. "Come on."

Satsuki stays right next to him, sitting on a blanket in the shade of the palanquin. Kagami's been busy watering the camel and had wandered off to a patch of spiny plants, snapping one and smearing his burnt arms with some paste out of its stalk.

"Come and eat, Taiga," Aomine calls. "Rest a minute before we keep going." Kagami sits down in the sand by them, seeming in much better spirits, if not a bit exhausted from traveling so far on foot. Aomine makes sure to feed him extra. Satsuki eventually breaks and fusses over Kagami too, _you're so burnt, you poor thing! Take some more water, I insist!— _which makes Kagami beam. Aomine's heart swells with happiness.

It's a morale boost to the lot of them, chatting as they each lunch. They really should be staying in the palanquin now that the midday sun is beating down overhead. The heat is indeed quite brutal, but he much prefers to sit outside and talk with Kagami.

After he’d gotten over the fright of being outside the palace for the first time, it’s… it’s actually rather exciting. Four guards, a servant, and Kagami to accompany them, it’s the most alone Aomine’s ever been, the most unsupervised, the most independent. It’s exhilarating. If this journey weren't a matter of life and death for his homeland, he'd really be enjoying himself.

"Alright Taiga, lead on," Aomine says, winking as they pack up to get going.

"We believe in you, Kagami!" Satsuki chirps. Kagami's eyes turn to little crescents, squinting shut in an apparent grin, hidden behind his mask.

They travel perhaps an hour more, which Aomine passes fanning Satsuki and picking sand out of his feet and trying to blow it out of his shoes— got to keep them nice— when suddenly the palanquin jostles, and jolts to a stop.

Aomine frowns at Satsuki, and they both narrow their eyes in confusion. What’s happening?

Out in front of the caravan, Kagami holds a hand out silently to stop the guards behind them, and squints into the distance.

What the hell is that?....

Wait… are they… hiding behind a rock?

There’s like, _ twenty guys— _huge beefy dirty guys all cramming themselves behind a tiny rock like ostriches, heads shoved down with their bodies fully revealed, spilling and sticking out all over the place. They’re groaning and struggling, shushing each other.

“Quiet, shut up you fools, keep it down!” an irate hushed burst. Kagami stares in bewilderment.

“There they are! There they are!” is the general clamor, and then, a little squeak: “What do we do now?”

“Charge!” one of them shouts suddenly and it starts all of them up. There’s a tremendous scuffle as twenty guys race out from the rock and barrel towards them. Kagami holds an arm up to shield his eyes, and when the whirl of sand, dust, and a clusterfuck of flailing arms and legs settles, a formation of wild desert men grouped behind one who sticks out in the front stand before Kagami.

Tense-shouldered, Kagami slowly puts one foot back and places his hand in his pants pocket and closes it on his work hammer, staring at them all with wide eyes. 

The guy in front has shaggy black hair and is skinny compared to most of them. What’s most notable is that he’s got his eyes squinted practically shut, and is smiling widely in an unsettling manner.

Kagami’s more than a little nervous. Fuck— 

This is so not good, they’re totally outnumbered. And those guys are fucking huge— and even if they weren’t, who knows what desperate starving sand-bums would do in a bind. He dreads to think what they’d do if they could lay their hands on Aomine and Satsuki.

Fuck, he can’t protect them on his own. Even with the four guards helping him, there’s just no way— 

Aomine, safely in the palanquin with Satsuki, still oblivious to the dangers of the outside, has passed his time lounging, snacking, and playing Shatranj with Satsuki, the rocking of the palanquin occasionally knocking a piece over.

He keeps opening the flap so he can peek out at Kagami in front of them, handsome and sweaty, but Satsuki’s gotten irritated that he keeps letting the heat in, so he’s had to lay around and brood impatiently, feeling bored but restless.

Until the carriage comes to a sudden stop. He can hear yelling and clamoring outside. For a moment, he’s irritated and flabbergasted when he thinks of the vast open desert. What could possibly be the hold-up. And what the hell, they’re supposed to be alone out here. There shouldn’t be anyone to make all that commotion — it’s not like it’s _ Kagami,_ yelling.

“What the fuck is that racket?” he wonders, and then promptly shuts up when he hears a guy scream out— _ ‘Halt!’ _

Oh fuck. There’s people out there.

Heart seizing, he just sits there frozen for a few moments, but it’s gone quiet outside. What does he do— fuck, what should he do. Are they being robbed? He should probably stay inside if that’s the case. God forbid they get attacked or something. They’re totally defenseless. What if they hurt Kagami?

He doesn’t know what to do, fuck— 

Part of him indignantly thinks_, who the fuck do these tools think they are, _ and wants to storm out there and tell them to piss off, pull the _ my daddy will throw you in prison _ card— but he’s suddenly incredibly aware of how exposed they are. They’re alarmingly vulnerable, and are pretty much at the mercy of the caravan robbers. There’s no one for miles.

Fuck, he doesn’t know what to do other than hope their guards can protect them. He looks over at Satsuki, whose eyes are wide, and suddenly he feels ice cold dread bowl through him. Oh god, she’s here. If they see her— 

He swallows hard. “Stay quiet,” he breathes, holding her tight. God, don’t let them know she’s here. 

They likely just want anything of value that they have. The treasure and the camel. If they find Aomine, at worst, they’ll just kill him. Satsuki though, they’ll keep her alive.

Throat tight with terror, he hugs her to him, cheek on her hair. What if- what if he can’t protect her? God, all sorts of horrible thoughts are flashing through his mind. He grips the little knife they’ve been using to peel fruit and holds her. They sit in motionless silence and listen.

Kagami, out front, swallows hard and watches them all closely. They’re all watching him back, some of them craning their necks to look at him. They don’t say anything. They seem to be waiting for _ him _ to say something. No one moves. Kagami doesn’t think he breathes.

Finally, this blonde guy, tall, fit, and young, face pinched in a scowl, steps forward from the group and moves towards the palanquin, peering at it with curiosity. Shit, he can’t let them know the prince and princess are in there. They’ll jump on them quick as lightning. Kagami rushes to get in his way, blocking his path and glaring at him— _Hey, fuck off._

For a second, Blondie’s eyes widen, but his scowl turns into a snarl in an instant, and he shoulders past Kagami roughly, aggressive motherfucker. On split-second impulse, heart rate spiking, Kagami _ shoves _ him back with both hands and then puts his fists up. _ Try it, Blondie._

Blondie grunts, stepping back, then squares up, calling his bluff. He sets his jaw and cracks his neck, looking murderous but somehow glad to have the excuse— _ Oh fuck, I guess we’re fighting now._

Kagami promptly leaps on him, which at least surprises him, because he yelps when he goes down.

Aomine and Satsuki jump when the palanquin wobbles as the guards set it down on the sand and then move to stand in front of the curtained doors on either side, scimitars ready.

Kagami wrestles Blondie in the sand, adrenaline pumping, but now he’s just more pissed than anything, because none of his moves are working on him. He knows all the counter-moves, like he'd been to the same school in Rome, and Blonde guy has had it with his struggling, because he’s yelling his head off and finally just grabs Kagami and starts shaking him by the neck. Kagami grabs his wrists, brain rattling around in his skull.

Aomine, unable to stand it any longer, peeks out to see what’s happening, and when he sees Kagami on the ground, encircled by like twenty desert hooligans who are watching and hooting as he gets choked and shaken around, his mind goes blank for a second and he just leaps out— as if he can actually do anything.

“Stop!” he shouts, and they all stop and look at him, the twenty guys looking up at once, Kagami and the blonde even stop fighting for a second, staring at him for a silent beat. 

Kagami punches Blonde guy in the face, and they abruptly go back to brawling.

He starts doing better, getting on top of Blondie and wailing on him, punch after punch to the head, which causes the rest of the guys to close in and pile on top of him. “Hey, hey, hey—!” “Not so fast, little red!” It’s hard to see, but they must’ve separated the two, because Blondie pops up and gets shoved out of the crowd. 

A couple of the stragglers go for Aomine, but the guards intervene, brandishing their swords. That makes them back off at least. 

Aomine watches helplessly as they drag Kagami off and pin him down. Okay— uh— fuck, what should he do?! He can’t possibly negotiate with them, can he? And he can’t fight them, so—!

Kagami’s tossing back and forth in the sand, teeth gritted and a vein bulging in his forehead when one of them sits on his back to hold him down. He kicks and flails, but he can’t get free, and finally lays his head down in the sand, panting. 

“Nice going, Wakamatsu—” “Yeah seriously, stop getting into fights unnecessarily—” _ “Shut up, he started it!” _

Just when Aomine thinks things are settling down and that he can talk them into giving Kagami back, demand that they state their business or fuck off, that’s when the jeering peters out.

“We came to give our regards.” Aomine blinks, and the dark-haired skinny one that seems to be the de facto leader approaches him, smiling and squinting. The big guy next to him takes him by the shoulders and turns him slightly to the left so that he’s facing Aomine, who furrows his brow.

_ ‘... What the fuck. Is he blind?’ _

Aomine stares for a minute, but then realizes they all seem to be waiting and have put their caravan jump on hold for the time being. Maybe they’re the type that like to play with their food.

Not that there’s much of a chance of intimidating such a group when they clearly have the advantage, Aomine still straightens up and puts an effort at looking unconcerned, as if they’re no threat to him and he isn’t scared out of his wits. That’s how Father always looks— in control of the situation, even when shit’s gotten dire. It’s not as hard to fake as he’d expected.

He tips his chin up, arms folded. “Is that so,” he sneers. “Seems you’re holding us up.”

“We’re sorry!” one of them chirps, and promptly gets smacked across the back of the head.

“Who the hell are you,” Aomine demands. 

“Who wants to know,” the aggressive blonde snaps, but is elbowed and shushed. What a disorganized crowd.

The squinty leader smiles and murmurs, “No intentions of disturbing you, certainly— we just happened upon you on our patrol.” Narrowing his eyes and pinching his chin, Aomine suddenly comes to the conclusion that his smile had only looked sinister initially because he’s squinting his eyes completely shut. And Gentle Giant next to him seems to be acting as a kind of seeing-eye dog.

His heart starts to slow when he realizes there’s something familiar about these guys. Not to mention, it’s… actually really hard to stay scared of people he can’t take seriously.

No really, who the fuck _ are _ these clowns.

“Patrol…” 

Aomine starts to feel incredibly awkward when he realizes something. He… he recognizes these guys. They still have scraps of royal soldier attire.

“Wait…” Squinting and leaning in, he remembers, “.... Imayoshi?”

The blonde guy’s expression suddenly drops, then promptly starts to boil with fury.

Imayoshi squints at him for a time, mouth open, and then— oh, no, yeah, they’re definitely who he thinks they are. 

“Ah. My prince,” Imayoshi greets.

“What are you guys doing out here?” Aomine wonders, bewildered. Fuck, they’d had him shitting bricks!

“...” Mouth open, Imayoshi’s brow quirks oddly for a moment, before he says, “We had been sent on patrol of the northern border some five years ago, my prince… dutifully awaiting recall.”

“Oh…” Aomine cringes.

Because he’s suddenly remembered, _ yeah… _ This had been his first unsupervised military venture back when he was about fourteen. And here are the results in front of him.

“... That’s unfortunate,” he says, after a long pause.

“Unfortunate?” Smile having turned grim and tight, Imayoshi seems to already know.

He probably shouldn't mention that it's actually been more like eight years.

“Why are you guys still out here though—”

“Sorry!” Sakurai apologizes again, Aomine remembers him now too. The blonde whacks him on the head harder this time, making him yelp.

“We’ve been awaiting orders.”

“Oh.” Aomine grimaces. Susa looks particularly disappointed. At least Imayoshi can’t actually see him, it seems.

“I totally forgot.”

Blonde guy positively _ explodes. _

“ARE YOU—” he blurts, racing up to him and getting in his face before anyone can do anything about it, and in particularly sharp Akkadu, he bellows, _ “_There is sand permanently embedded in my asscrack! My piss is practically coming out solid— you just forgot us here?! _You—!” _

Aomine leans back when he starts to fling spit, ears ringing at the volume, and when he doesn’t look properly apologetic and just digs a finger around in his ear, well Blondie really loses it then. He’s beyond pissed, he’s absolutely crazed.

Kagami thrashes wildly, kicking and clawing when Blondie gets in Aomine’s face, but the guards stand between them and hold Blondie back. The other brigands come wrangle him by the collar and shove him off by himself to cool down. 

Ranting and storming back and forth, he kicks sand and screams, “This is BULLSHIT — YOU’RE BULLSHIT!”

He takes it out on Kagami and kicks him in the ribs, knocking the wind out of him, and then sits down hard on his back. “Te futueo et caballum tuum!” he yells, “Es stercus!” He puts up his middle fingers, which just makes Aomine squint and raise a brow. “Kiss it!” 

That starts the whole mob of brigands up shouting. “Hey, hey, that’s enough!” — “Romulus’ asscheeks, Wakamatsu!” — “Will you calm down?!”

Aomine’s about to curiously put his middle finger up back, what the hell does that mean— from the tight-lipped look on Kagami’s face, he definitely knows what it is— but this is about when Satsuki steps out of the palanquin. 

His heart drops. Shit, why did she come out, she should have stayed inside and hid herself away— none of these rubes had any idea she was here, but they sure do now. 

The men gape in astonishment as she trods over the sand towards them. All of them go quiet, even the ranting blonde promptly falls silent as he looks up. His slew of profanity falls away and his face goes slack. “... O, dea meus,” he breathes.

Her skin is brilliant in the dazzling sun, its rays glowing through her veil, and he can see them all gazing at her spellbound, positively entranced. It feels as if the smallest thing could break the reverie, at any moment the wind will blow and they’ll catch sight of her goddamn toenails and they’ll all pounce— 

“What is going on!” she demands, commanding their attention with her shrill voice. As brave and as fiery as Tiamat, god damn— 

To Aomine’s great surprise, the lot of them react like scolded boys. Even Aomine stands a little straighter. Kagami, for his part, feels the grip on his arms loosen, the blonde guy on his back gaping openly.

When no one says a thing, Satsuki’s brows pinch sternly, and they practically quiver. “Come now, I ask you, what is going on?”

“...” “....” “.......” The brigands react in awe, looking at each other, then at her again. 

“Please release our… friend!” she says, clearing her throat, unused to giving orders and even more unused to having them obeyed. She seems to have it under control to such a degree that Aomine just keeps his mouth shut and watches, honestly a little cowed himself.

They hastily shuffle away from Kagami. Wakamatsu, looking extremely chastened, scrambles off of him and offers him a hand, which he takes. He stands up and brushes himself off, shaking sand out of his clothes. 

“I am the Princess Satsuki, daughter of Emperor Aomine of the Golden Land.” They all look at each other again. “And who are you?” she inquires, clearing her throat again.

Kagami, still wary of the strangers, shuffles to Aomine’s side, looming there and glaring, feeling a little butthurt about being unmanned like that— twenty on one, so not fair. He and Aomine momentarily struggle to see who’s going to stand in front of the other, _ bitch, no, I’m protecting _ _ you_ _ — _

Imayoshi, who Aomine’s at least mostly sure can’t actually see her and is just judging based off voice that _ oh shit, there’s a girl here— _has finally straightened up and introduces himself. 

“A ruthless band of brigands,” Imayoshi says, grinning wide, getting his stride back.

“Yeah!” The rest start to laugh and get into it. “Ruthless!” — “We’re terrible!” — “Merciless!” — “Cruel!” 

They’re getting all worked up, repeating the boasting, grunting and banging bones together menacingly, grinding teeth, growling and laughing. Satsuki seems taken aback but Aomine just sighs through his nose and rolls his eyes. 

Kagami seems to have realized too that they’re not a threat from Aomine’s relaxed body language, because his shoulders have lowered. After a time spent frowning, he nudges Aomine, who merely tilts his head toward him at first, not taking his eyes off the group talking with his sister, but then when Kagami nudges again he looks over. 

He points downwards and Aomine follows his finger, brow scrunched in confusion for a moment. Then he realizes Kagami’s pointing out their battered shoes, which are in a horrible state of disrepair.

Aomine glances up and can’t stop a smile. _ Oh my god, you’re adorable— _

“That’s what you’re focusing on?” Kagami shrugs and kicks some sand a little sheepishly. Grinning gleefully, Aomine moons over him to an entirely inappropriate degree given their situation. One might say he’s not focusing on the right things either— 

Satsuki has her hands on her hips, tapping her foot. “I see,” she notes, but is drowned out by their oafish fuckery.

“Once soldiers to the king, your highness,” Wakamatsu says, and they sober up.

“Wow, you’re a mess,” Aomine notes, breaking the silence. Wakamatsu’s eye twitches. 

Satsuki’s scolding demeanor cracks when she promptly cries out in agreement. “How awful! Look at you! — Look at the state of your shoes!” They all look at each other’s shoes and their terrible feet.

“...... Ew.” — “Damn, she’s right.” — “Sorry!”

“Well, ah… Things have not been too good lately, you know,” Imayoshi hums, rubbing the back of his head as he explains.

Aomine clears his throat a little sheepishly. Kagami nudges Aomine again and he begrudgingly says, “Thank you for your loyal service to the crown…” Looking to Kagami uncertainly for a moment, he coughs and then proclaims, “My cobbler here will fix your shoes.” 

Kagami seems to vibrate with excitement. Adorable. Precious. Aomine’s going to die. He’s absolutely going to just pass the fuck away.

He must have been distracted for a while, because next time he tunes in, Satsuki declares, “Your country is in grave danger!” She points to Imayoshi and proclaims, “I hereby declare you our royal guard!”

"What?!" Aomine blurts, but swallows his protests. It's not as if he can say they're untrustworthy, can he. They're his father's own men, and shabby as they are, they'd kept their post longer than most would. What more test of loyalty can he ask for.

He's just... _annoyed._

They’re stunned, blinking in surprise. They start to mutter amongst themselves and then start to puff themselves up. They seem happy about it. Aomine groans aloud. Oh come on.

“Royal guard,” Sakurai says, seeming excited. “Wow!” — “Thank you, princess!” — “Our pleasure!” Wakamatsu is standing pin-straight before Satsuki, looking dazzled, ready to fall on his sword at her command. 

Aomine narrows his eyes sharply. 

Oh— Oh no.

_I absolutely think the fuck not._

He huffs, but lets it go for now. At least that scary situation has dissipated. They could’ve been totally fucked if they were real desert bums. At least they were just _goofball_ desert bums.

With that over with, they get ready to head out. Their band of filthy royal guards line up and Kagami gives their shoes a quick mend. Aomine stands back in amazement, sitting in the palanquin with Satsuki, curtains open, looking out and watching Kagami work. How the fuck can he make do with just those scraps? 

Kagami glances up, pins and string in his teeth, and Aomine smiles spoonily, chin in his palm. He’s so endearing, he almost can’t bear it.

Satsuki has something she wants to say, and keeps trying to speak up, but this group of idiots is completely unorganized, and they’re excited enough that they’re quite boisterous. “Quiet, quiet, quiet,” Imayoshi blathers with a grin, “I’m the captain of the royal guard, eh? So follow my orders, men—” They all guffaw and hoot and Imayoshi cackles too. Satsuki frowns, sinking down.

Wakamatsu, glancing over at her, takes in a huge breath and then bellows, “Hey,_ SHUT UP—” _

They do, and Satsuki clears her throat primly. “You will accompany us on our perilous journey to save our Golden Land! The One Eyes march on the Golden City!” At that, they break into outraged shouts.

“The One Eyes?!” “How can it be?” “Fuck—” “Those demons come to knock on heaven’s gate?!” “Those goblins!” “Ghouls!” 

“We travel to the Witch’s Mountain to find an answer as to how the city can be saved,” Satsuki tempers them, and they seem eager to come along and be of service. 

Kagami looks glad to have company to walk with him, seeming to have changed his mind about them, but Aomine is disgruntled, biting his tongue on his complaints. 

He's too butthurt to say so, but he'd been looking forward to making the journey with Kagami, free from the supervision of the palace. And now these clods have come along and ruined that plan— 

Fuck, he needs a nap. He’ll be glad to get moving again. At least in the palanquin he won’t have to look at their ugly faces for a while and can try to forget how annoying they are.

Wakamatsu is no less pleased by his company, and shoots him the stink eye, growing even more irritated when Aomine doesn’t even notice.

  
It’s going to be a merry journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Giving the middle finger originated in ancient rome or even earlier, but back then it didn’t mean fuck you, it meant dick— Also, interestingly, there’s a custom in ancient rome of kissing the emperor’s hand, and Caligula actually used to make people kiss his middle finger instead to humiliate them. 
> 
> Ooh, wakamatsu, you have a dirty mouth!


	24. My Friends, My Friends

Faraway in the eastern borderlands, across the desert and through the hills, the flag of the One Eyes flaps in the mountains, cutting high above a vicious ridge of purple rock that plunges into cliffs. The depths of the ravine below glow vibrant red, noxious gas fumes rising in the sinister light. The ferociously devastated wasteland is ravaged by swirling clouds of red fog, and the flag is being ripped by the fierce wind, flapping and fluttering hard.

The sky burns blood red behind the battle-flag, a backdrop for the One Eye emblem— a crooked X, each leg of the symbol zigzagging twice in a spider-like fashion. In the center of the X lay a yellowed eye with a red iris. 

Hanamiya, having ridden his horse ragged for a day, dismounts in the great rippling shadow cast by the humongous banner, taking a few steps towards the side of the ravine, wind ripping at the sleeves of his robes. 

“The camp of the One Eyes—” he cackles to Phido, who hops after him and squawks, the wind pulling out his feathers and catching his wings like a sail, dragging him to the edge of the cliffs.

“Feh. Barbarian swine.” He makes his way to the One Eye flag and stares down into the red crevasse beneath, then reaches his spindly hands up for the flag, sleeves flying, and gets a grip on it. He tears it down from its iron pole and stuffs it into an inner pocket of his robe.

“This will prove useful as a prop for my magic show!” he chortles. “I’ll have those simpletons fawning over me in a trice— Mighty One Eye, my foot! Boy king to a bunch of brainless monkeys more like!”

That little twit will be as easy, if not even _ easier _to fool than King Aomine.

Phido squawks in anguish and limps along, tongue hanging out of his beak. He morosely scrambles about Hanamiya’s feet, pleadingly flapping his wings. “Ah yes, and Phido, we’ll find you some scraps. The meals those savage infidels can stomach are only fit for a beast such as yourself, after all—” 

Phido hops next to him, gasping with his wings hooked around his swollen stomach, starving and beady-eyed— _I’ll eat those infidel pork roasts all day long— _

Hanamiya’s just turning around, smug smirk still in place, when suddenly four giant shields surround him and Phido on all sides. Four huge One Eye soldiers glare down at him, their spears at his throat. They don’t say a word but they all sport an identical sneer, teeth bared.

_'Oh shit, they heard me. Great first impression.' _

Sweating, Hanamiya gulps, grinning widely. “Gentlemen, what a delight to make your acquaintance,” he stammers, holding perfectly still. 

They don’t respond. In fact, more spearpoints dig into his throat, boxing him in with perfectly identical and geometric form. Their shields all bear the One Eye emblem, and they all stand at well over six feet tall in jet-black plate armor, yellow teeth bared, and a single staring red eye glaring out from each of their terrible faces.

He nearly yelps when two of them hoist him up under the arms and drag him onto the points of his toes, and then turn and march him goosestep towards the camp of the One Eyes. Hanamiya keeps his mouth shut. They’re awfully quiet guys for having such a reputation for being raucous and brutal. It’s an insidious, intimidating silence.

He _ can _ hear something in the distance though, as if some gigantic umbral beast residing down in the magma caverns beneath these ravines, as if that sleeping giant’s terrible heart were beating far beneath them, a horrible muffled tattoo. 

Their communal camp is quite impressive. The sky behind the massive complex of tents is a burnt ombre of red and deep purple. There's a seven-peaked tent that is so massive Hanamiya imagines it could perhaps even dwarf the golden palace, black canvas held up with vicious iron tentpoles and red ropes. High atop it, proudly cresting each of the tent-peaks, are seven flags, each emblazoned with a red X. It's like a seven-eyed beast glaring out from the mountains, the glowing sky a hellish reminder of the carnage left behind this camp, wherever it travels. 

The wind disturbs the canvas walls, beating against it, and suddenly Hanamiya recognizes the thump of that horrible monstrous heart as the beat of war drums. The soldiers march him in time to the blasphemous music emanating from within the tents— and when the canvas doors to the tent open, Hanamiya stares in perverse amazement, the blare of the music and the hellish light of green fire striking him dumb.

It’s like an entire city living under one roof, a black sky. The walls are lined with torches and one-eyed guards eating and relaxing, congregating in smaller groups and, for once, _ not _moving in perfect wicked synchrony. Even in their leisure time, they are completely armored, ready for battle at any moment. Pigs turn on spits, thick-bodied dancers gyrate in skimpy outfits they practically spill out of, swirling sashes and performing acrobatics. There are skulls on pikes, skulls on strings, skulls on the ground— skulls are definitely a motif around here. 

Braziers of green fire burst at intervals, and furnaces glow brightly with coals, the stiflingly hot air wavering and singing as metal strikes metal, the forges constantly churning out jet-black weapons to be shaped, ground, and sharpened. 

The camp is so massive that an entire murder of crows flies freely through the lofty ceilings, cawing and squawking. All the hellish racket jaggedly layers in with the music, the beating drums, the dancing, the feasting, the fierce faces and stocky bodies, it draws him in and hypnotizes him. 

And in the center of all this chaotic debauchery, down a long carpet woven with pictures of skulls, and also _ lined _ with real skulls— how imaginative— is the Mighty One Eye, looking exactly as you’d expect of a warlord in his leisure time to look. Up on a raised red dais with a gigantic emblem of the One Eyes behind him, he reclines on a human divan of live One Eyes, who groan beneath his insignificant weight. Empty wine cups and bones from pig legs are tossed down on the floor before him, and he lounges boredly. 

When Hanamiya is pushed in, One Eye Akashi rises and snaps his fingers. 

“Throne.”

Hanamiya is suddenly overcome with the urge to laugh hysterically. His voice… his _ body… _ He’s so much shrimpier than he’d expected. Sure, he knew he was a boy king, but he’s even younger and scrawnier than he’d anticipated. This was the child of the Mighty One Eye of the old stories? The citron certainly had fallen quite far from the tree…

It’s a miracle he hasn’t been overthrown by his own men by now. What a pitiful little wisp of a boy! He must be nearing twenty, but he could pass for fourteen. He hasn’t a hair on his face, and he’s short, not at all matching the brawny, hairy stature of his gigantic countrymen. He has the look of a delicate and sickly child. 

At his word, the One Eyes forming his divan jump up and re-interlock, performing graceful backflips in order to do so, creating an impressive human throne. One Eye Akashi seats himself and formally regards Hanamiya with a cold glare.

Hanamiya is taken aback by the whole scene. It’s certainly more than he was expecting. A formidable enemy, indeed— and well, keep your friends close, keep your enemies yada yada— 

As he stares at Mighty One Eye and his piercing, utterly unwavering gaze, his own left eye starts to blink and twitch as he sort of keys himself in to the scene. 

He’s noticed now that the area before the warlord is a circle of skulls, ringing the dais, which he now unfortunately finds himself in the middle of... The One Eye soldiers have quieted to sit and watch as One Eye Akashi pays an audience. 

He hasn’t spoken yet, regarding him in aloof and stoic silence. There’s something sinister and calculating about the way he looks at Hanamiya, staking him to the floor, like he has him all figured out just by looking at him. Hanamiya’s prepared schpiel dries up in his throat momentarily.

Phido, for his part, has seen the roasting pigs and can’t stand it any longer, making a run towards one and pulling Hanamiya by the leash. He’s still so busy staring in fascination at Akashi’s eye that he’s yanked to the ground, flat onto his face. Phido, flapping desperately, can’t quite reach the pig’s spit, screeching and squalling. 

_ Oh for fucksake— I’m going to pluck you and mount you on my wall, you wretched fleabag— _

“What is this.”

So he does talk. A smooth commanding voice, but higher than was appropriate for a One Eye. Hanamiya gets to his feet in as dignified a manner as he can manage, and yanks the leash viciously, throttling Phido and pulling him back, giving him a boot in the butt.

“Forgive the behavior of my companion. He’s quite overcome by the sight of such a feast!”

The compliment doesn’t phase Akashi in the least. His face doesn’t even twitch. He stares down at him unblinking, and for a moment Hanamiya wonders, does this scrawny excuse for a One Eye even understand him? Can this _ philistine _ even comprehend simple speech?

“Who dares enter the camp of the Mighty One Eye.” Hanamiya's condescending attitude wets itself and runs for cover in an instant. One Eye Akashi is puny, but his demeanor is so commanding, so intimidating, the aura of a man who wouldn’t blink to have him killed in front of him over a wrong step, it has Hanamiya tripping over himself to correct his offense.

“Oh, Mighty One Eye—” he laughs out nervously with a conciliatory smile, bowing low, prostrating himself. He’s always been good at groveling. This time it’s just at different feet.

“I am Hanamiya the Great of the Golden Land! And until recently, I was the right hand of the king!” he babbles, winning smile firmly in place. He pauses, waiting for a response.

“And—?” Akashi prompts bluntly, and Hanamiya can see he’s going to be a tough sell. A man of action and little wasted thought, certainly.

“I make my name as a sorcerer, and I find myself in a position to serve you, your—” _ Your grace? No— Your wickedness? Fuck— _ “Your, ahh— O, inconquerable One Eye.”

Akashi pinches his chin for a time, staring down at him, _ judging him— _“Sorcerer?” he says at last, and Hanamiya grins. He’s got him on the hook.

“Very well… Amuse me, then.”

Not one to say no to. Or to keep waiting.

Hanamiya leaps to his feet, leering in satisfaction. Just what he’s been waiting for. He sweeps his arms apart with a flourish and throws down a burst of green fire and smoke, grinning. 

“I conjure demons,” he says as he creates a glowing dragon, which weaves through his hands and forms a hoop, then bursts into a ring of flame. “Charm beasts, and birds of prey too— Phido!” 

On this cue, he yanks Phido’s leash, and Phido hefts himself up to jump through the flaming loop, barely clearing it. His tail feathers catch the rim, and he runs flaming out of the tent, squawking and shrieking.

“But that’s not all!” Hanamiya shakes out a handkerchief, which blossoms into a huge One Eye flag. “Ha!” He rams the flagpole into the ground.

One Eye seems unimpressed.

No matter, he’ll crack him yet.

Conspiratorially, he leans in with a sly grin. “I have power over people, though they may appear complex—”

“Hmm,” Akashi grumbles, utterly unreadable.

_ Hmmm. Perhaps I’ll skip to the end— _Last time he did the card trick that goes with that part of his schpiel, he’d totally fucked it up.

“But all this is nothing,” he wags a finger, “for I have brought the key to the Golden Land to your doorstep.” He holds up the rucksack he’d brought, crackling with green sparks, the gold balls glowing like the sun.

“No man can take the city, no matter how mighty he may seem...” He nods to Akashi. “Not without the three golden balls of the fated prophecy.”

Electric sparks burst from the rucksack in a crackling fireworks display, and then the smoke clears to reveal the three golden balls gleaming on a red rug at mighty One Eye’s feet.

He looks up eagerly, awaiting his response. Akashi stares down at him for a long time, piercing him with his gaze. And then he starts to smirk.

“Hmph. Magic,” One Eye Akashi scoffs at last. “What use is that in the face of death.” Hanamiya feels a shudder go down his spine and instantly regrets wishing to be able to see what Akashi is thinking, because his stoic expression cracks, the smirk growing into a manic smile.

He gives an awful laugh. He’s not convinced. A skeptic to things he can’t see, touch, or control. He’ll do it his way, and the city will fall whether he has the gold balls or not.

But perhaps— his cruel and strategic mind thinks— perhaps an element of fear will be just the right touch. Something to strike _terror _ into the heart of that sparkling city. 

“You say you can charm beasts?”

Hanamiya grins and nods, perking up in triumph. 

Akashi waves his hand. “Throw him to the alligators.” 

His smile instantly falls into a terrible grimace as he is dragged away, pupils shrunk to panicked pinpricks.

There are many crimes among the One Eyes. Obfuscation. Cowardice. Running to save oneself. But there is little more reviled among the One Eyes than to sell out one’s own kind. 

Little did Hanamiya know, the moment he revealed he was once subject to King Aomine and yet he’d come to them with the city’s greatest treasures, Akashi already had him pinned.

There is nothing he hates and distrusts more than a traitor.— 


	25. Royal Guard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We return to our little caravan as it makes camp in the desert. Play nicely in the sandbox, children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hover over the latin phrases with the mouse for a translation

The little caravan has found itself camped at the side of a beautiful oasis. 

The sun reflects off a crystal-blue pool of water, cool and refreshing and ringed by palm trees. They’d come across it in their travels through the yellow sands and stopped there to rest and set up camp.

Their journey has been characterized by the typical outbursts one would expect when traveling with a bunch of rowdy men who brawl and shout and tell bawdy jokes to pass the time marching. They stomp through the desert like a herd of elephants, and funnily enough, they're nearly just as leathery skinned.

Aomine knows it’s childish, but he does resent their company a bit. Kagami and Satsuki seem positively chipper to welcome them but Aomine broods from within the palanquin, sour-faced. He can’t explain why exactly. He scolds Satsuki in private for trusting them so quickly but even to him it feels like he’s trying to slap a legitimate excuse up as to why he’s butthurt.

When they come upon such a perfect place to rest, they decide to stop for the day even though there’s plenty of daylight left and plenty of brutal blistering heat still to be had from the sun above. Who knows when they'll come past water again. They start setting up camp, and he and Satsuki get out to stretch their legs and to play their hands through the water.

Kagami’s gotten to unpacking their supplies, wordlessly directing some of their new buddies to help him and having scattered success with his efforts at communicating. Fuck, don’t people understand what _ pointing _ means?

The work should be going more quickly with more than just Kagami and the guards to make a camp, but the lot of them are a bunch of silly fools. Those dunderheads fumble around trying to follow Kagami’s instructions, confusedly staking poles into the ground and trying to unfold stretches of canvas. Kagami gets more and more frustrated, making big agitated gestures, looking for all the world that he wishes he could holler and curse, and the brigands argue and yell back, getting animated. 

It’s a very amusing display, but the one who usually yells the loudest is conspicuously absent from the lively group, quietly on his knees at the princess’s feet where she sits on a camel saddle pack. He pillows her feet on his folded scrap of plate armor to separate them from the hot sand. Satsuki offers out her hand and he gingerly takes it, delicately kissing her fingertips. Aomine is watching closely, arms folded, brow low and brooding.

Kagami gestures in exasperation, setting off another round of shouting. “I don’t know what that means!” — “Stake them in the ground here!” — “Sorry!” — “Godsake, Kagami! Who put a mute in charge!” — “Is it his fault you all are too simple to understand how to put up a tent, you rockheads! Let him be!” — “Hang on, we’ve got it now men, _ pull!” _

When they start to achieve some manner of success and Kagami looks more satisfied than frustrated, Aomine wanders over to his side to talk. His heart quickens in pleasure to stand next to him and see his dear face up close, sweaty and dirty. 

Kagami straightens when he sees him coming, pausing in his silent ranting fit, his shoulders sinking slightly. He rubs the back of his head and gives an awkward wave of greeting, perhaps embarrassed at his poor management of the disorganized group of men before him.

“You’re getting some color to you,” Aomine notes, pleased to see the angry red of Kagami’s burns is darkening his skin to a beautiful peachy gold. Kagami smiles. It suits his face even better. He’d looked so pasty before.

He doesn’t know why he didn’t make the connection before, but he realizes suddenly that Kagami must have spent a lot of time indoors to be so light. Maybe holed up working. The thought gives him a sudden swell of affection and understanding for him. Has he been lonely? Aomine certainly has experienced a degree of loneliness in the palace.

Some canvas drags loose next to them all of a sudden and Kagami gives him an apologetic look and grabs a handful, yanking it down, then swiftly loses his grip when a brigand on the other side drags it back, nearly pulling him off his feet. “Hey!” someone shouts from the other side. 

Aomine snickers and he hears Kagami huff as he crouches to fuck with the ties of the tentpoles. He patiently stands at his shoulder and watches, smirking at the sight of the brigands putting up the next tent more swiftly, with some unnecessarily complicated knot tying and a lot of fighting. _ For fucksake, who let Imayoshi tie the knots— _

When Kagami fixes the ties to the first tent they’ve set up to provide some shade, a simple canopy on four poles, Satsuki gets ushered into its protection almost immediately by most everybody, lovingly settled onto a barrage of scraps so her pretty feet and bottom won’t touch the earth.

They all love her at once. They linger around her to try to talk with her, with no bad intent as far as he can tell. Many are old enough to be her uncles and simply seem pleased to be in a girl’s company after such a long time, interested and charmed by her gentle grace. Having lived in the desert like wild animals for so long, maybe they like having the excuse to act civilized again.

_Are you too hot, princess? — Don’t worry, you rest and we’ll settle things — want to see something cool?— _Aomine doesn’t blame them one bit. Satsuki is very loveable.

Wakamatsu is barking at people who bug her too much. _ Get back to it! You shut up, I am working! Get! — _He lingers like a dog who stands alert at a gate, overly eager to guard against intruders. Aomine keeps a suspicious eye on Satsuki.

For a break, many of the brigands go to the inviting pool of water and drink and scrub their horrible arms, filthy and thick with cracked clay and layers of dust built up by sand-whip. 

“Great find,” Aomine notes, following Kagami as he carries supplies from the caravan to the set of tents. “You’re doing great as a guide,” he compliments, and grins to see Kagami’s ears glow. 

Honestly, he does feel a little bad about it, but Kagami’s done so well despite such a challenge. He wants him to know he’s grateful for the trouble he’s gone to at least, and mentions, a little guiltily, “I know the job was thrust on you, but—” Kagami stops and shakes his head exaggeratedly. Aomine trails off.

Eyes sparkling, Kagami sarcastically waves a hand. _ No big deal— _

Aomine looks at him funny for a second and then starts to grin. Kagami’s joking with him. “Oh you’ve got it under control, huh,” he says sarcastically, playing along, it feels so nice, and Kagami smiles back.

He looks over at the bickering brigands splashing in the oasis and then, looking distinctly harassed, he holds up his hand and gives him a perfect symbol, and Aomine laughs, laughs all the way from his belly.

“Ah Kagami, you’re funny—”

Kagami beams, eyes glowing happily, and then gives him a tentative nudge towards the canopy tent. Aomine looks over. Satsuki’s sitting there in the shade, urged to drink from a waterskein by a big brute with a black tooth. 

Kagami gestures over there, _ get out of the sun and go rest, _but Aomine declines, preferring to be out with him no matter how hot the sun or sand. 

“You must be glad to stop for a rest, but I’m glad to stretch my legs,” Aomine says, still smiling. “That palanquin gets pretty stifling, y’know...” 

Kagami smiles over his shoulder, walking over to the shade next to Satsuki’s side, and then stands there and waits until Aomine follows him. He sits down, and then immediately realizes he’s been tricked into settling as easily as a duck trailing its mother into a pond, because Kagami raises his eyebrows and smiles, holds up a hand and waves— _ bye sucker— _then walks back to help set the supplies up for the evening meal and ready the camp for the night. 

Aomine glowers.

Satsuki, cheery in the face of his brooding, sits and plays with some desert flowers and plants the men had scavenged. Aomine sulks, watching with a pout as Kagami interacts with the brigands.

It’s quite a nice sight though, to see how Kagami livens up around others. He and Aomine came from different worlds, but perhaps they weren’t so different in their desire for companions. Aomine just might be a bit more selective though— 

Bored, Aomine lays around with Satsuki, idly playing his fingers in the sand.

A large scarab beetle is crawling beside them, drawing his attention. Fascinated, he crouches down next to it and watches its slow scuttle across the sand. So big! At last he reaches out two fingers, and hesitantly darts in few times to try and grab it. He picks it up and holds it up close to his face, its pincers and legs waving. 

He holds it out belly first. “Satsuki, look!—” 

She promptly_ shrieks, _ and many of the men’s heads pop up in alarm, so he snorts and takes it away from her. 

_ Fine, stay by me instead, little buddy— _

“It’s so ungodly hot,” he complains after a time, laying back and whipping his keffiyeh off to get some air on his sweaty head. He gets a couple weird looks, perhaps it's strange to see a prince completely bare-headed. Whatever, let them look— that’s his attitude until Kagami, on his way past, stops and doubletakes, then hurries off red-faced, which makes Aomine feel inexplicably naked.

Satsuki, for her part, fusses, “Daiki, will you cover your hair? Stop taking that off, you’re going to roast.”

“I’m roasting with it on.”

“Here, have some water in your scarf, that will cool you.” 

“Not by much,” he grumbles, but lets her, and then takes the stifling damp thing back over his head. “Ugh. Satsuki, this is the worst, how can you stand it—” She’s got it even worse in that heavy thing.

“You can take off your veil if you want to, I won’t tell Dad.” Perhaps that’s a bad idea around all these men, but showing her face won’t hurt, surely. 

“Lie still and you won’t feel so miserable.” He flops down next to her, head by her leg, glaring upwards. The sun is glowing through the tent canvas.

“Hadad, fuck, a little rain please?” he calls out at the sky. Satsuki scolds him for that one, hushing him.

“Pardon me, princess,—” They look up at Wakamatsu, who’s wandered past an unnecessary amount of times carrying stuff, walking awful slow, “but if there’s one place you’re safe to blaspheme Neptune, it’s in the desert.”

Kagami snorts.

Aomine looks up, jaw slackening, and Kagami quickly stifles it. Aomine blinks, then scowls at Wakamatsu, who stands over them with a twisted expression.

“And don’t play with that, my prince,” he says with a grimace, and Aomine looks down at the beetle in his hand. “You don’t know where it’s been.”

Kagami reaches out and flicks it with his foot. The beetle flops onto the ground.

“C’mon Kagami, help me out over here, will you—” And off they go together, Kagami giving him a parting look before turning. Aomine glares after them, mouth open.

He and Wakamatsu aren’t getting along well, as one might guess.

As for Wakamatsu, he’s not nearly as dumb as one might give him credit for, and he’d caught on quickly enough to the prince’s affections for a certain someone. Yeah, his sudden friendly desire to work together with Kagami was not at all a coincidence— it’s pure spite.

And hey, why should he feel bad about it! 

He thinks it’s well within his rights to make Prince Aomine suffer a little after what he’d put their squad through, so like the cruel, conniving man he can be, as soon as he’s cottoned on to the fact that the prince was out there trying to flirt with Kagami, who, to his credit, was minding his own business and was just trying to pitch a tent for Olympos’ sake— as soon as he sees that, he makes up his mind.

To fuck with him, basically.

So he calls Kagami to come help him do some manual labor in the hot sun, carrying heavy supplies and setting up the final communal tent to protect the lot of them from wind-whip in event of a sandstorm in the night. One good thing he’ll say about running into the prince out here is that he’d come loaded up with supplies from the city— and actual food that wasn’t wriggling a few minutes before he ate it.

Kagami, the oblivious clod, starts sweating out in the direct sunlight, and according to plan, eventually strips his shirt. It actually reveals a pretty well-sculpted physique, back and chest on display, his sweaty flank gleaming brilliantly in the sun. Impressive, really. If they were back home, Wakamatsu might be making a play for him too— 

Hey, what can he say, the kid’s gorgeous. And with a body like that under those rags, Wakamatsu can sure understand how Jupiter came to kidnap Ganymede.

_ I’d let him pour my wine, that’s for sure— _

Unintended eye candy notwithstanding, Kagami’s serving Wakamatsu’s intended purpose. Aomine sits with Satsuki under the shade of the canopy, chin morosely dropped into his hand as he watches, voraciously thirsting.

And not for water. It’s all Wakamatsu can do not to burst out cackling.

Kagami, for his part, is none the wiser, helpfully cooperating and stacking bags of grain with a good attitude, gods bless him, all the while unknowingly showing off the musculature in his back to the watchful eye of Emperor Hadrian over here— really, could he _ be _ any less subtle? Look at him squirming!

For all that he makes the prince drool like a wolf, Wakamatsu quickly learns to like Kagami. He’s exactly the type of guy he can get along with well. Simple, yet headstrong— quiet, but earnest. A lot quieter than he’s used to actually, but he can overlook that. Kagami’s just such a genuinely _ good guy _that it practically comes off him in waves, and it draws a person in. He’s very easy to like. He’s handsome too, despite the big nose, and he’s pretty tall when he’s not all hunched over, working. His skin has tanned in the brutal sun, peeling off like mad, and revealing a golden glow. He can definitely see why Prince Asshole is interested.

He does resent him a tiny bit though, because Kagami’s certainly having more luck attracting a mate than he is. It’d be a little easier to bear if it weren’t so obvious that Kagami wasn’t even _ trying— _

When Wakamatsu thinks he has the prince distracted enough to give him an opening to get near the princess, he takes up his old rusty sword and swings it around absently, tries to remember his drills before they’d lost motivation in the endless days spent in the desert.

Kagami taps his shoulder and he ends up flinging it off into the sand. Cursing, he runs after it.

When he looks up, Kagami’s standing there grinning. Wakamatsu scowls. “What are you smiling at, huh?” He glares for a second, then ducks his head. “.... Did she see that?”

Kagami snorts quietly. “Shut up!”

He frantically rubs his hands on his sides. “Fuck,” he curses. They’re caked in sand, sticking to his sweaty palms. Kagami snickers. “Don’t make me have to nutpunch you,” he grumbles, and Kagami hums in amusement. Wakamatsu quirks a brow. So he isn’t entirely mute after all. Interesting. 

Fuck, if Kagami’s noticed he must be really obvious. Who’s he kidding, it’s probably clear that he’s nervous and excited to anyone with a pair of eyes.

_ Hopefully Prince Fuckhead hasn’t noticed, at least—   
  
_

He has, actually.

Aomine has most definitely noticed, and as he sits and broods, he’s torn between confronting him, and just letting him be, because what does he care if Wakamatsu makes a fool of himself. It’s not as though his dear sister would ever look twice at such a dirty desert bum like him anyways.

Besides, he’s too busy trying to catch Kagami’s eye and try to do some flirting of his own. Protecting Satsuki’s honor from a peasant seems a very tiring prospect at the moment.

A more pressing concern is that Wakamatsu almost certainly is getting under his skin on purpose, very deliberately looking back as he calls, “Help me dig a fire pit, Kagami—”

Kagami nods and Wakamatsu smirks at him. Aomine seethes. Fuck, he’s so smug, it’s infuriating!

Okay, so Wakamatsu knows he’s being a total dick— 

But the way he sees it, Prince Aomine’s surrounded by babes all the time in the palace, and Wakamatsu, standing faithfully at his post, hasn’t even so much as _ seen _ a woman in years. He deserves the thrill of romance much more than the prince does, certainly! So he has no sympathy that he’s aggravating the prince and cockblocking him in his game of lust that he’s playing with this poor kid. He looks like he’s about to blow any minute, simmering with frustration.

Wakamatsu hopes Kagami has his wits about him, that’s all he’ll say.

After about an hour of watching Kagami get food supplies together and poke at some hot coals under a hotter sun, Aomine’s absolutely fucking _ had it. _

The sun’s starting to get lower in the sky, the brigands are bumming around waiting for a meal, helping Kagami when he directs them. Satsuki is perched at his side, accepting a silent cooking lesson and helping Kagami pound dough in a huge bowl, a big wooden mallet in her tiny hands. Kagami waits dutifully for her to smack it and then whams his mallet down, careful not to strike her with his heavy swing. Aomine would be mooning over how sweet a sight it is to see them all crowding around Kagami and listening — to his every ‘word’ in a sense— but he’s got other things on his mind.

Wakamatsu’s off on his own, taking a break to pee in the sand behind a rock away from the camp, and then came to sit in a patch of shade cast behind the communal tent, watching the others from a distance. He’s just leaning back and stretching the kink in his spine when Prince Aomine marches right up to him and then just stands there for a moment and stares down at him imperiously with a cold glare.

Then he sits across from him with folded legs, eyes narrowed, and just _ stares, _ an openly hostile expression set into his infuriatingly handsome face. He supposes this is when Prince Aomine is going to reprimand him, tell him, _ if you look at my sister again I’ll have you flayed alive_. He’s surprised he’d kept his temper this long, actually, and that he’d waited to do it in relative privacy rather than castigate him in front of the guys. He knows he’s pushed his luck and it was nice while it lasted, and he should have expected to get some stern words sooner or later, if not a beating around the ears. Even so, it’s a bit disappointing.

Aomine glares at him a moment longer, eyes narrowed to slits, jaw tensing, then finally shifts and takes a breath.

_ 'Ah shit,' _ Wakamatsu thinks, inwardly groaning,_'here it comes— ' _  
  
It’s kind of funny, because he actually has himself pretty pumped up, angry and indignant, ready to snipe back when Prince Aomine inevitably tells him, _ what the fuck are you looking at. Stop looking at her— _

_ I can look where I want to — No you can’t. If you look at her again, I’ll have your hands and your balls cut off — We’re in the desert, you can’t do shit to me. And besides, how would that stop me from looking at her. Hah._

He’s got the whole back and forth worked out in his head, and then the prince opens up his stupid, rich-boy, soft-lips mouth and orders him— surprisingly, _ not _ to keep away from Princess Satsuki as he’d been expecting, but to _ “Leave Kagami be—” _

And he’s so thrown for a loop that he just sits there and stares at him open-mouthed and gobsmacked for a few moments while Prince Aomine glares expectantly.

For a minute he’s confused, but that’s when he realizes his suspicions were entirely correct, and he starts to laugh aloud. _ Laugh— _

Because it’s clear Kagami isn’t just some lustful tryst the prince wishes to arrange, another in a long line of pleasure slaves. Kagami is a potential paramour to the prince, and Wakamatsu absolutely _ bursts _ out laughing, he laughs and laughs and throws his head back, tears coming to his eyes.

_ Prince Aomine, _ shining jewel of the Golden Palace, is chasing the heels of a _ cobbler, _ a man of the most humble caste, lower than low. An arrogant silver-spoon brat like him, he’s crawling after a peasant. That’s fucking amazing. 

The prince looks so taken aback that it just makes Wakamatsu wheeze. He seems infuriated to be laughed at, to see his command be met with laughter. He looks so confused and indignant, like he can’t comprehend the fact that Wakamatsu hasn’t fallen at his feet, fallen over himself to follow his every word, hasn’t _ groveled _ over him.

Wakamatsu wipes a tear. Shit, that’s good. He starts laughing again. Fuck, his side hurts. Oh gods, he’d needed that.

“Apologies, _ your grace—” _ he snarks once he’s pulled himself together. Aomine scowls. “But don’t you have like, fifty concubines?”

Affronted by the suggestion, Aomine pulls back like he’d been flicked on the nose. “Kagami’s special,” he denies, shameless about it, admitting it with an honesty that surprises Wakamatsu, because he has to admit that takes some balls.

Then again, a prince must not be used to his desires being refused, so why should he have to keep a crush secret. He’s gotten everything he wants for his entire life, so why should wanting a person be any different.

Except he actually looks really offended by such an accusation. “He fixed my shoes. He’s an amazing... _ artist,” _ Aomine stresses. 

Wakamatsu veers back at the sight of genuine affection— whoa, gross. Prince Aomine just stares at him in defiance for a moment. Wakamatsu mildly looks down at his feet; his fancy shoes are tarnished with sand, and with his legs folded like this, he can see there are hearts on the insteps.

_ ‘Uh— gay,’ _ he thinks.

He looks back up at Aomine, whose face has gone dark and stormy.

Aomine— who has just realized he’s really touchy about anyone making fun of his shoes, which he essentially sees as a love letter from Kagami.

He grabs Wakamatsu’s ratty shirt in hand and glares in his face, furious, trying to intimidate him more than anything, rather than a real threat of violence. He’s never so much as been in a fight, and Wakamatsu sees through it right away, the rough type who’d been in fights nonstop since childhood.

What a spoiled boy. He doesn’t even have a single callus on his hands. _ Is he gonna’ hit me? _ Wakamatsu thinks, fighting a smile. Princey seems to be waiting for him to flinch, _ isn’t that adorable— _

It just makes him angrier, and Wakamatsu thinks he might actually hit him. If he does, he’ll just have to take it and not retaliate, of course. It’s not like he can hit back, no matter how degrading or humiliating. Striking the prince will earn him a nasty death.

But the prince is probably relying on that though, isn’t he. He thinks he has one over on him.

And Wakamatsu thinks suddenly, you know what? He’s calling his bluff. He doesn’t care anymore.

So he stops trying to hold it in and bursts out laughing again, because it’s fucking hilarious. Kagami and— and the prince! Prince Aomine fell in love with— oh Circe’s tits— How romantic, and how _ stupid _— 

He cackles, head falling back. Aomine growls and drags him a little, but it just makes him laugh more. “Ahh, mirabilis— stultus es—” He wipes his dirty finger into his eye sockets, rubbing tears. “_Nunc scio quid sit amor—” _

Aomine by this point looks _ incensed, _ once again looking positively _ mindboggled _ that Wakamatsu would dare laugh at him, perhaps honestly having expected him to quiver in fear_. _

“What did you just say?!”

Aomine slaps Wakamatsu on the cheek, pretty hard actually— _ smack! — _ and it shuts him up for a moment. Aomine shuts up too, looking just as surprised that he’d actually dared to slap him; perhaps he’s not actually as used to beating servants as Wakamatsu would’ve guessed.

Lightning quick, Wakamatsu slaps Aomine right back— _ smack! _

He’s so surprised that he lets Wakamatsu’s collar go and just stares at him. Wakamatsu starts grinning wildly, cackling, _ oh my god, I’ve slapped the prince, _and Aomine goggles at him, aghast, mouth agape, his expression quickly burning into offense.

Aomine looks like he’s building himself up to shout, to strangle him, to shut his laughing up, but at the opportune moment, Kagami pokes his head around the tent, appearing to be looking for them. When he spots them, he comes and sits down between them, oblivious, and Aomine positively seethes, reluctantly settling. Wakamatsu grins smugly.

Oh, so he won’t be an asshole in front of Kagami, is that it— oh he is gonna’ _ milk this— _

He laughs and laughs and watches Aomine’s blood boil, until he sees Princess Satsuki looking and quickly quiets down. He scratches his head. Shit, did she see that? Oh fuck, she’s coming over—

He gulps and sits up straight as her tiny feet come to rest at his side. Whoa, she’s so close— _ I hope she didn’t see— _ “What’s happening?” she asks, her sweet voice stern and suspicious.

She looks from him to Aomine, and Wakamatsu’s kissing whatever good impression he’d made with the princess goodbye, he expects an immediate crucifixion, for Prince Butthurt to jump to blame him, this _ terrible rotten man, _ he _ struck me, _he did this and that, he’s horrible, he’s dreadful— but instead Aomine just sits there and steams in silence, red-faced and brooding, jaw clenched hard.

Wakamatsu’s thrilled in a way that he’d actually managed to shut him up. Although, he may have only won this one because Kagami had shown up, who knows. He’ll take his laurels nonetheless— 

“Don’t fight,” she scolds, and Wakamatsu jumps.

“Yes, sorry Princess—” He beams, rubbing his hair. Aomine glowers. Oh— was she talking to him?

She looks suspicious for a moment more, then heads away to rejoin the others around the fire. Wakamatsu and Aomine sit in sober silence for a few moments. Kagami looks between them, frowning, his brow starting to furrow in suspicion of his own. 

When Wakamatsu slits his eyes and glances over to him, the brooding prince mumbles at length, “Are you upset because I left you in the desert, Waranashi?”

This—! _ Ooh, this—! GAH! _

Wakamatsu swells, hands squeezing uselessly in front of him, but at last all he can get out is something about Tacita that Aomine thinks is,_ may you be struck dumb and may your horses perish— _which is rude, but more strange than anything, so he just narrows his eyes and gives him a weird look. He assumes he’s being cursed but it’s like no curse he’s ever heard before and it means nothing to him.

Then he says something about a drunk woman on a horse and Kagami gasps softly. It’s the most noise he’s ever heard him make and Aomine’s head whips around, back to Wakamatsu, to Kagami, to Wakamatsu. Aomine glares. He feels like something went over his head.

Kagami’s giving Wakamatsu a disapproving look— _ too far, man— _and Wakamatsu goes quiet, leaning back in the sand on his palms. 

“Sorry, sorry, it’s out of my system. _Get fucked—!”_ he barks. “No, okay, I’m done. I’m done.” Kagami sighs, rolling his eyes, but seems to be holding back an amused snicker. Aomine sulks.

Wiping sweat from his brow, Kagami offers out a bowl for tasting. Aomine peers in. Wakamatsu eagerly dips his finger into what looks like sauce and pops it in his mouth.

“Whoa— What the fuck, did you guys bring _ spices?” _ Kagami grins. “Damn, I’m used to roast lizard. Almost forgot what flavorful food tastes like. Kagami, that’s great—” He slaps Kagami’s shoulder, jostling him.

Prince Aomine hesitantly tries it, and licks his lips. He doesn’t seem particularly impressed, probably fed much better in the palace, but he gives Kagami a smile. The longing way the two make eye contact makes Wakamatsu want to look away. Fuck, what a spoony fool.

Kagami looks between them, but neither of them say anything. Aomine’s quit glaring at him for the time being, but he’s sure there’s a grudge boiling there for hitting him back. It’s kind of a dick move to leave conversation to the one who doesn’t talk, isn’t it— but after a few moments, Kagami looks down and exhales, then pulls on his shirt collar, flapping it on his sweaty chest.

“Yeah buddy, sure is godawful hot,” Wakamatsu agrees. “At least we’re used to it. I hope the princess isn’t finding it too uncomfortable...”

That starts Aomine up again, his glare sharpening anew. “It’s not your concern,” he bites out, the atmosphere dropping about ten degrees. Kagami awkwardly looks between them. Wakamatsu scowls back as Aomine amends, “Don’t underestimate her.”

Spitefully, he drawls, “I meant you, but I'm glad she's oka-” 

Kagami holds the bowl above his head as Aomine throws a handful of sand at Wakamatsu who kicks it back immediately, right in the face.

Kagami blinks, gritting his teeth awkwardly and giving Wakamatsu a look as Aomine spits and yelps. He drills his hands into his eyes, coughing and spitting. 

Wakamatsu sits back awkwardly. “Oh. My bad.” 

Aomine gets up and storms off, irate. Wakamatsu looks up nervously, but Princess Satsuki is looking away, covering her mouth, shoulders hunched. Oh shit.

Kagami huffs and shakes his head. “What!" Wakamatsu blurts. "You got somethin’ a’ say?!”

Aomine sulks in the shade of the tent until dinner, roasting in the heat and miserably watching everyone else. The sand has made his eyes red and leaky, sand in his teeth grinding away like rocks, and he has to wonder, is this some sort of divine punishment from Shamash for being a selfish and unfaithful son? Is this what he deserves for being lazy all his life?

As the evening comes and they all grow hungrier, the crowd of brigands huddles around Kagami as he tries to fix up some kind of suitable meal out in the desert. Wakamatsu wrangles them for Kagami, kicking and shouting them into helping him out pounding dough. He manages to make curry and rice with the supplies they’d brought, and some bhakri bread. 

It’s pretty yummy all things considered, even though a little sand had probably gotten in it at some point. Kagami had worked really hard on it, looking very proud. He glows when Aomine eats it up without complaint. The brigands gobble it down and all pat him and throw him around— _ “Most edible thing we’ve eaten in five years!” _

There’s wine too, which they fall upon like wild beasts. “Aqua vitae—” Wakamatsu groans, guzzling it down and wiping his face. Aomine’s revolted, but at least the fool has stopped showing his middle finger and calling him a catamite when his sister’s back is turned. 

When the meal starts to wind down, the men throw themselves out in the sand, laying around and belching. They drag themselves to Satsuki’s feet and whine and wheedle her, “Will you sing for us, Princess?” — “Tell us a story, won’t you—?”

“Ah,” she stutters, taken aback. “Perhaps Daiki—” She looks to Aomine for rescue, unused to being the center of attention. She always had looked so starving for it at home, but she seems overwhelmed now.

“Hey, hey, leave her be!” Wakamatsu snaps. Aomine lays about idly, watching, as at last she’s urged into singing one, looking a little bashful. 

Clearing her throat, she starts, voice wavering a little in self-conscious doubt, but everyone quickly falls still and listens, entranced by a sweet and sad tune sung in a high and melodious tone.  
  


“His heart was full of tears as he went out into the countryside—

He carried with him his staff on his shoulder, sobbing all the time:

_ “Grieve, grieve, O countryside, grieve! _

_ O countryside, grieve! O marshes, cry out! _

_ O— crabs of the river, grieve! _

_ O frogs of the river, cry out!” _ _  
  
_

“Ahh, Satsuki,” Aomine interrupts when she pauses for breath, and everyone snaps out of it. His sister has the voice of an angel, she should not sing such a mournful song. 

“You’ll bring us to tears at this rate— Not Dumuzid’s Dream. Something else.”

Giving him a look, she starts again, and with a heartfelt note, sings out:  
  


“When I married a malicious husband, 

When I bore a malicious son, 

An unhappy heart was assigned to me—”  
  


_ Fuck, okay I get it— I feel guilty enough already, geez. _

Head rolling back, Aomine drawls, “Satsuki, Satsuki, not that one—” 

“Hey, will you stop interrupting!” one of the guys complains, and surprisingly it’s not Wakamatsu. He’s sitting still, subdued, face turned up towards her, eyes glassy and wet. Oh for fucksake.

“Satsuki, sing _ Ishtar’s Descent _ instead, it’s my favorite.”

“No... no, it’s so long,” she refuses, sitting down and looking flustered. Aomine frowns. Ahh, has he hurt her confidence, complaining so much?

Kagami gives her a little pat and her cheeks flush, ducking down with a smile. 

“I’ll tell a story—”

Wakamatsu drains his wineskin and hucks it. The men perk up and roll closer. Susa gives Kagami a knowing look and nods his head at Princess Satsuki, then exchanges a smirk with him. Drink makes a man brave, huh.

“Now we’re talking.” — “Finally” — “How come you’re so stingy when it’s just us?”

“Shut up, I’m telling it!” They do, and as they all nibble on the leftovers and lay around, he gets up and starts to stalk around the cooking fire.

Okay. Aomine loves a good story. He’s used to being the ringleader of all the little ones at home. He knows how to tell a tale, and even he has to admit that Wakamatsu is _ good. _

The flames make him glow in the purple evening, the dramatic lighting casting long orange shadows. The cold desert night makes them all draw in, lounging around and huddling together, watching his body move, lit by the flame as he acts out grandiose tales.

True stories of Roman emperors, tales of heroes and gods and fabulous creatures— he tells about Rome when he’d been a slave there, the aqueduct and the temples of the great city. He fondly speaks of Roma Invicta and the SPQR— by then dusk has fallen and they’re all listening avidly, transported to another world.

Aomine settles himself at Kagami’s side, enjoying stories of the colosseum. Wakamatsu grins, using more and more Latin as he gets into it, impressive tales of daring and brutal violence. He looks across the fire at Satsuki, as if he’s telling it to her personally to impress and thrill her— 

The colosseum: a four-leveled amphitheatre in the center of the city open to the public, built up with glowing limestone, fifty _ thousand seats, _ humongous, the largest ever built— men fighting wild beasts, gladiatorial contests, the warriors fighting to the death for a title of glory, battle reenactments, theater, a constant stream of mass entertainment, and Aomine is skeptical about it all, because it sounds too fantastic, larger than life, too much to be believed, but he has to admit, Wakamatsu is very charismatic. Uses his whole body, knows how to build suspense. Knows when to hush his voice and when to raise it. Knows how to keep you on the hook. He’s a compelling storyteller, and Aomine loves stories.

“My very favorite event—” Wakamatsu says, hands spread. “The Naumachia.”

Kagami’s eyes are glowing.

As he explains it, when he was a boy, no shit, they had staged a full-fledged naval battle inside the colosseum. With real boats. On a real _ ocean— _to entertain and give glory to Caesar.

They flood the basin of the amphitheatre and two small armies are pitted against each other in bireme and trireme ships, two thousand combatants and four thousand boat rowers reenacting the battle of the Egyptians and the Tyrians. 

Frowning, Aomine starts to feel a little bitter about how dazzled Kagami looks, and calls bullshit on the more amazing parts, because _ how is it possible— _How could an amphitheatre have been flooded without ruining the structures beneath? How could it have been filled and drained quickly enough for it to be practical to be used for such a purpose, how could the colosseum still be used for the other spectacles, the gladiatorial combat and such— how could such a logistical leap be made— 

The basin and the conduits are apparently connected to the aqueduct, but Aomine is dissatisfied with such an answer, sitting back with a scowl. Nobody else seems to care that it’s so obviously improbable.

Wakamatsu describes the moment the two conduits open, the way water starts pouring, starts _ blasting _ out of the holes ringing the base of the ampitheatre, the choppy water raising swiftly like a great sea. Warships, _ actual, full-sized galley warships _ with sails and rigging and twenty-five oar rows, the ships row out into the colosseum, and the prisoners of war roped into staging the event all salute Caesar— _ ‘Morituri te salutant.’ _

It’s a bloody show. They fight to the death, the ships swirling in the sea like they’re being rocked on the surface of an angry ocean. Men screaming, the water red with blood, ships on fire, men jumping overboard, the boats constantly rowing and slamming together, boarding the other ships and cutting men down— men are in the water, thrashing and dying. A real naval battle inside the colosseum, a thrilling and violent sight.

“How is it possible,” Aomine mutters, still a bit skeptical, and Wakamatsu stops, perhaps annoyed by his repeated interruptions breaking his flow. 

“Kagami,” he calls, switching to Latin and chattering something quick. _ “Back me up—” _ Aomine gathers.

Kagami, having been Wakamatsu’s most avid listener, paying rapt attention, nods enthusiastically, looking to Aomine for a moment and then back up to Wakamatsu. Wrists linked around his knees, he sits in close, eating it up. He’s clearly seen it. Perhaps he misses home. Perhaps he went to the Colosseum too, long ago, perhaps he saw that very event and remembers.

“But how could such a thing have been engineered,” Aomine protests, arms folded. “I don’t believe it— How could it hold even a single boat, let alone dozens at a time.”

“You must see the Colosseum to believe it,” Wakamatsu says. Aomine sticks his lip out. “It’s called the Colosseum for a reason— it’s colossal.”

“And you’re a colossal idiot,” someone mutters in the back and the men burst out laughing. Wakamatsu whips around and starts up yelling.

Aomine’s shoulders fall, convinced but hesitant. He glances over. Has Kagami taken offense? He’s insulted his homeland, hasn’t he, called it into question? 

He need not have worried. Kagami’s barely listening, grinning along with their antics and paying rapt attention to Wakamatsu, who falls back into his tale.

He tells about warriors fighting beasts, gladiators battling, clangs of steel and iron— he describes the elaborate underground structure beneath the stands, the hypogeum, the complex of tunnels and vertical shafts that lift scenery pieces and animals up into the arena for the entertainment going on above. From the stands, it looks as though a hole has opened up in the sand and a lion has simply _ appeared _there, the trap door swiftly opening for it to be lifted up onto the stage and then closing behind it. It’s so hard to imagine without invoking some element of magic, because Aomine’s never seen such a machine in his life. Amazed, he leans over until he and Kagami are shoulder to shoulder, and murmurs, “You’ve seen it?”

Kagami looks up, distracted, then nods bashfully.

The wild beasts were imported from around the world to be hunted by warriors amid elaborate sets complete with movable trees and buildings, events performed on a huge scale. During lunch, those condemned to death that day would be thrown down naked to the beasts to be mauled and eaten right there, their execution, their agonizing deaths put out as entertainment. Aomine finds himself mystified, thrilled and disturbed in equal measure.

The floor of the arena is a platform of wood resting atop the complex of corridors below, made up of slats that can be individually opened for the shafts beneath when a set piece needs to be elevated to the stage from the corridors below. That interlocking wooden puzzle is filled up and covered with sand so that the copious amounts of blood can be efficiently absorbed.

The Venatio, animals are brought out to be hunted by gladiators; elephants, caspian tigers, crocodiles, barbary lions, panthers, aurochs, wisents, hippopotamuses— some creatures Aomine’s never seen nor heard of. The way Wakamatsu tells it, no one event goes on by itself. On one end warriors fight a lion, on the other, acrobats and magicians perform flips and dances, in the center, men wrestle, watched by referee. No matter where you sit in the theatre, something is going on near you. He tries to imagine it, a circus of death, but what really fascinates him, what really has him enraptured, is when Wakamatsu tells the story of the gladiators...

A defeated retiarius, flayed open and held down beneath the foot of the victorious secutor, looking up and waiting for the decision of the crowd— the _ wild_, _ cruel _ crowd, worked into a frenzy, passes judgement on the conquered gladiator. _ Has he fought well, shall I grant him missio and allow him to be sent away standing—? _ Do they want to see him spared, shall he let the loser live, or do they cast a thumbs down and order the victor to kill him, does the crowd shout out as one, fifty thousand voices roaring, Aomine can’t comprehend the roar of noise, the compelling force of an entire city demanding one man kill his fallen opponent— 

Rome in all its glory and wickedness, it has drawn him in and captivated him.

When Wakamatsu tires of his stories, settling down in the sand, and when Imayoshi decides to tell the tale of Ali Baba, he groans aloud in annoyance and swipes a bottle from Sakurai — “Hey!” — “What was that?” — “Sorry!” 

Aomine watches Kagami’s face, glowing in the firelight, softened by a smile as he grins along with the others who laugh and hoot as Susa and Imayoshi goofily act out the story. Wakamatsu heckles from the back, jeering and drinking his wine. Susa offers out a big hand to Satsuki with a kind smile, asks her to stand in as Morgiana,_ if her majesty pleases. _ She blinks up in wonder, and complies. It’s the perfect role for her, clever girl— she falls into it beautifully. Aomine would pay more attention if he could, glad to see her blossom, but the warm curve of Kagami’s face keeps dragging his eyes back.

They all talk and laugh late into the night, and Aomine watches him, lounging beside him, gazing up at him as Kagami listens in on the fun. The soft affectionate spot in his heart for him feels so unbearably tender in that moment that he doesn’t know how not to look at him and think— _ my god, I love you— _

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever be able to repay him. Simply for watering the seed that had made his heart grow and bloom open. He’d never known he could open himself enough for it to even be possible to feel something so beautiful— such affection, so pure and intense.

Kagami, sweet Kagami, who’s met him when he had everything and yet stayed at his side even now, even though he may lose his crown, even though he may have nothing very, very soon. Even though his family’s country may fall in a matter of days and leave Aomine devastated, Kagami is beside him.

He wonders if Kagami misses home. He saw how captivated he was, an open book. It’s an endearing sight, but all the same, Aomine feels uncomfortable and sad to think of it, recognizing his own homesickness. 

When this is over with, he wonders... if that’s it. If, when the One Eyes are thwarted, if all goes well, Kagami will return to the Golden Land with him and bid him goodbye. He wonders if Kagami will go home and evade his reach.

When the One Eyes are done away with and the city is safe, will Kagami say farewell, for _ Rome is calling and I must go— _

It hurts. The thought hurts him terribly.

He thinks of Father urging him to find a wife and have a son by her. Thinks of that cold and distant feeling of loneliness, holding his heart inside and feeling that no one can truly know him, until at last he can finally unburden himself and find solace in a wife of his, share all his flaws and fears with a stranger bound to him by marriage. He thinks of the women in the palace, thinks of his life laid out for him, a string of wives and sturdy sons— but his spirit longs for the young love before him. Can’t resist it once he knows of it, once he’s felt the sweet excitement, once he’s felt that joy. 

He knows what his life must be. It’s been written out for him since before he was born. But Kagami— he wants Kagami so desperately. He thinks he'd do almost anything... just to make this last a little longer...

When the stories are over and the brigands sit around the fire and talk, Kagami sits with him in peaceable silence, watching the moon with him.

Heart aching, he thinks of how this may all end. If they fail to find the witch, or if she refuses to help them, if the kingdom falls— nevermind the many ways Aomine’s life will be completely devastated, will Kagami still be with him?

And if they succeed… is this the end for them? Will they go their separate ways, will Kagami leave him, and Aomine, will he fall in line with Father’s wishes and take the crown? He should be happy, in a way— he’ll finally have impressed Father, shown his loyalty and commitment to the throne and the family and the country, but he’ll have left Kagami behind— Kagami, so sweet and so good, so desperately dear to him. Will he have the strength of will to hold onto him, or will he be torn apart trying to hang onto both Kagami and the pride of his father?— 

Aomine thinks of what he would have done three days ago, before the sword of Damocles had been strung above his head, before he knew of the One Eyes and before the gold balls had gone, when he’d still been carefree and naive to the anxieties and responsibilities of adulthood— he thinks of what the spoiled and selfish Aomine would do, if he could transport himself back to that wonderful first day of falling in love—

Even if his feelings are not returned, Aomine wishes more than anything to take Kagami away to the palace with him, sweep him up and take care of him, let him live in peace and leisure, take away his suffering. If it were up to him, Kagami would never need to work or struggle again. He would want for nothing to the end of his days— even if he will never love Aomine in return. Even if Aomine must spit out a line of sturdy sons and amass a palace of wives, he doesn’t want to let go of that beautiful feeling, cannot extract the sweet bloom of love back out of his heart. 

He knows Kagami is of low birth, knows his own duty is to produce as many heirs as possible, perhaps it would be bad form to woo Kagami to be his lover, but surely, he can stay in the palace with him at least— Aomine can love him from afar, keep him close as his treasured friend. 

He wants to treat Kagami with favoritism. Spoil and comfort him. Fascinate himself with him and live with him at his side, love and cherish him, even if only as his confidante. 

If Kagami could ever return his feelings, if he could ever accept him in all his flaws and love him — if Kagami will allow it, Aomine’s heart will unfurl and bloom for him_— if you’d only let me, I’ll adore you with the deepest devotion my heart has to give, I promise— _

Perhaps it will seem an empty life to Kagami, a palace trinket of a prince who cannot even find the guts to claim him openly. Perhaps he would prefer his old life of shoemaking, or would wish to travel on and return home— but Aomine will try his very best, he’ll go to any lengths to please Kagami and make him happy.

He wants to tell Kagami, beg and plead, _ come to the palace as my companion. It would please me greatly if you would allow me to take care of you. _

_ When this is all over— please— come to my side. Won’t you stay. _

Aomine blinks when he finds Kagami has turned and met his gaze. He clears his throat and looks away, but Kagami sits up and reaches forward, looking to him for permission.

Aomine’s lips part as Kagami grasps his foot and lifts it from where it lay folded on the sand. He takes it towards him and lays Aomine’s ankle across his leg, resting in his lap. Aomine’s heart and breath quicken as Kagami takes the slippers off his feet, the delicate threads growing ragged from trodding on the hot abrasive sand. 

God, if his father could see him right now, letting a member of the lowest caste undress him. And out in the open too. But fuck if he'd deny Kagami. Look at him, so sweetly focused on Aomine's shoe of all things.

He brings it close to his face to inspect it, and leaves Aomine’s foot resting on his warm thigh as he takes out a little needle. He squints one eye shut and reattaches some loose threads, sews around the sole to retighten it, and blows delicately on the sand caught in the cracks and crevices of the seamwork. 

He returns it, slips it back on his foot for him, and Aomine feels his heart swell unbearably with affection.

Every time he doubts Kagami’s feelings, every time he starts to think too hard, Kagami takes a leap, flirts as boldly as he dares. Here he was agonizing on how to sweep Kagami off his feet, and he just— sweeps Aomine up and carries him away.

As Kagami trades Aomine’s feet and takes the other slipper, working on it with meticulous care, Aomine wonders— what if he had the bravery to speak those words. What if he told him right now— _ asked _him right now?

Sweet Kagami, on his knees serving him— what if Aomine laid his heart at Kagami's feet and promised himself to him. Told him he'd be devoted to him his whole life long if only he'd allow it.

Kagami gives him his slipper back, squeezing his foot and gazing at him, giving Aomine a thrill, _ so romantic, _and when he lets go and sits back in the sand, looking up at the moon, Aomine feels as though steam is puffing from his ears.

“You know… uh…” Running his finger in the sand, Aomine clears his throat. “I’ve got stories too—”

Kagami looks up.

Wakamatsu, wandering past over the purple sand from the firepit to the tents, sees them sitting together in the low light and calls out, “Having fun, Antinous?”

Huffing, Aomine glares over, but is quickly distracted by the sight of Kagami’s face growing very, very hot. In fact, he’s mad enough that he leaps up and races over getting in Wakamatsu’s face and jabbing him in the chest as if to say, _ you, you, you— _

Wakamatsu laughs, “Whoa there, just a joke— What, was I interrupting?” He halfheartedly wrestles for a minute with Wakamatsu, who’s laughing, grappling and dragging him around in a headlock, but lets go and storms off hotly. “Aw c’mon, Kagami! You can still put the moves on him if you try!”

Aomine’s confused. He gets up and goes to Satsuki and tries to ask her about it, and she says something about Emperor Hadrian, but that doesn’t clear up a damn thing for him. 

He and Satsuki pray and go to sleep, laying down in the palanquin together. As they settle and look at the curtained ceiling and the glow of the moon beyond, listening to the snores of the men who have already fallen to sleep, he tells her, as offhand as he can, that he saw Wakamatsu brushing his teeth with sand — read: _ a lie _— but anything to dissuade her, just in case she had any idea of letting that guy kiss anything more than her hand, if he were to try something. 

She doesn’t say anything. He eyes her suspiciously, but shifts until he’s comfortable, satisfied for the moment.

“You and Kagami are getting so close,” she notes sleepily, curled up beside him. 

“Yes,” he hums.

“Perhaps he will stay in the palace if we restore peace.” Aomine’s heart clenches. He folds his arms behind his head and looks up at the moon.

“I hope he will,” he murmurs. “But what will come of it.”

“What do you mean?” she breathes on a sleepy sigh. Aomine’s quiet. Why should they pretend to ignore the obvious. Kagami is of low birth. Aomine must marry soon. There is no happy ending, is there?

“One who brings you encouragement and shows you love— that’s all I wish for you, my brother.”

Aomine smiles, closing his eyes.

“Ahh, Satsuki. You do know me, don’t you.”

The night is cold, and they cuddle together and dream of a twenty-year journey upon the sea, monsters and goddesses and a faithful wife, _ replace my husband—? Not one of you could even string his bow._

Outside, Wakamatsu joins Kagami on a sandhill, plopping down next to him and looking up at the moon.

Kagami keeps sitting with his knees bent, arms looped around them loosely. It’s hard to tell if it’s an awkward silence when the other guy wouldn’t be talking anyways. After a moment, Wakamatsu nudges him. “Hey, no hard feelings, Kagami?”

Kagami looks up, then shakes his head. 

Wakamatsu raises his eyebrows and nods once, straightening. Then he gives a long sigh, groaning like an old man as he pops his joints and settles back. He and Kagami sit in companionable silence for a moment, and then he mutters wryly, “Him though—? Really?” 

Kagami smiles, looking down.

“He seems a handful to me.” Wakamatsu cracks a belch and leans back on his hands. “If he’s blackmailing you, there’s no reason to go along with it. We’d all help you escape,” he offers, but Kagami just snorts, as if to say, _ no, unfortunately I actually return his feelings. _

“Ahh fine then. Just remember— _ impossibiliu nulla obligatio est—” _ Kagami quirks a smile and they sit and look at the moon for a minute.

“Quiet guy, aren’t you.” Kagami rolls a shoulder.

Wakamatsu switches to Koine Greek, because he’s tired, and in like company, what reason not to. "Or are you just having a hard time here. I did too.” Kagami’s eyes instantly light with recognition and Wakamatsu gives a satisfied smirk. “That’s it, huh? I figured that might be it.” 

After hearing him laugh aloud earlier, he’d been curious about why Kagami didn’t speak, and had realized during the campfire stories that Kagami was noticeably more alert, drawn in to what Wakamatsu realized were familiar topics to him.

“It’s rough, huh— Especially with that guy yacking your ear off.” Kagami laughs a little more, looking forward again and rolling his eyes. Wakamatsu grins. He’s can certainly take a joke about his crush better than Prince Aomine can— cracks about Antinous notwithstanding. 

“You sure? He smells like esfand, y’know...” Kagami snickers again, but ducks his head. “Well, if you're sure, then I’ve done all I can do,” Wakamatsu hums, grinning. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you—” Kagami shoulder-checks him and Wakamatsu snorts.

“Wish I was havin’ as good a’ luck as you are.” Kagami looks at him in silence for a moment. “Maybe you can wrangle the prince for me. Y’know, give me an in.” Kagami bites back a laugh, fist pressed onto his mouth. “Ahh, shut up already… But honestly…” he mumbles. “You think she likes me? Even a little— Hey, shut up!” he snaps when Kagami can’t keep it in.

“Whatever,” Wakamatsu grumbles. Kagami closes a fist and makes an encouraging, _ you can do it _ motion. “Oh easy for you to say, you just get to sit there looking all hot and sweaty and the big jerk goes right _ to _you— What am I supposed to do? She’s so pretty and fine, she’s not gonna’ like a lug like me.” Wakamatsu bites his tongue and drops his chin in his palm, glaring at the horizon.

Kagami purses his lips and then shakes his head. Pats his heart. Wakamatsu doesn’t know what that means— maybe he’s saying he has a good heart. Or that Satsuki will like him for what’s on the inside. Who fucking knows. It doesn’t seem likely, but he appreciates the thought at least.

“Yeah well,” he shrugs. “In any case, I bet the prince is telling her I brush my teeth with sand or some bullshit—” Kagami snorts, but he chucks him on the shoulder.

“You’re alright, Kagami.” He means that. Kagami is just a decent, all around _ good _ guy.

_ I wish you happiness as the plaything of the prince. If that’s what will bring joy to your heart, then luck go with you. May he treat you kindly— _

“Good luck tomorrow, bud. I’m gonna’ turn in. You should too.” Kagami smiles crookedly, watching him go as he gets up and leaves him be. 

He walks off and paces in front of the palanquin, back and forth, ten paces to the left, a swift turn, ten paces to the right. The guards sit at the four corners keeping watch just fine, but they let him march. Kagami shakes his head and smiles, settling down to sleep.

The water in the pool of the oasis reflects the stars, ringed by blue palm trees. The crescent moon glows on the surface like a silver hook. The brigands lay all over the place, under the tents, around the shore of the water, strewn on the sand, using each other as pillows and footrests, snoring and wheezing in a ragged chorus. As they roll over, they grunt and grumble, shoving each other and making adjustments in their sleep.

The eunuch guards sleep beside the palanquin, heads nodding, and Wakamatsu has fallen asleep sitting up, but eventually flops over and curls up.

Out front lies Kagami, fixing a pile of brigand shoes in his sleep. A fly lands on his nose, tickling it until he snorts and rolls over.

Beside him, a striped tent moves over to a saddle bag, scuttling over the sand.

Kuroko, who’s been following the caravan in the beating sun all day, creeps into their camp once they’ve all gone to sleep. He’s using a tent for disguise— obviously.

He yanks a bag into the tent, then moves to a water jug. It zips inside. The tent shuffles blindly past the sleeping camel towards the oasis pool, wanders too far, and then promptly sinks, collapsing and gurgling.

At the bottom of the pool, there comes a frantic wiggling from within the submerged tent, and a knife slashes the canvas, revealing Kuroko, pinned down among his stolen goods.

At the surface, bubbles rise and pop. Max the camel wakes up, sees the bubbles, and Kuroko pops up like a cork. His coat is full of subsiding air, ringing him in bubbles, which escape like a noisy fart.

Max can’t stand it, gasping and heaving, collapsing with helpless laughter and slapping the sand with his hooves as Kuroko claws his way out of the pool onto the sand like a wet, and very humiliated rat.

Max wheezes as he crawls off— there’s always a witness, huh. 

Fuck, he didn’t even make off with anything.

The next thing Kagami remembers is a golden ray of sunlight striking his face. He wakes up, bleary-eyed and staring. 

He doesn’t know how the hell it’s possible none of them saw it yesterday when they’d stopped, but he can see the desert mountain. It’s absolutely beautiful in the light of the dawn. It’s there on the horizon, lit by the rising sun. Kagami would actually call it a tower more than a mountain— it’s a giant golden arm with the hand outstretched, extending from the sand up to the sky, an incredible sight.

The light that creeps across the sand as the sun rises reflects on the waking brigands, who sit up and look towards the distant mountain with awe. Kuroko peeks out, standing against a palm tree and squeezing water out of his coat. Ain’t that something— 

Aomine pokes his head out of the palanquin and stares towards the mountain, then looks from the mountain to Kagami. Kagami sees him and smiles. It’s time to head out, but at least they’re in it together.

. . .

Far, far away, in an alligator pit beneath a barbarian camp, eight green alligators are lined up in neat rows of four, jaws gaping open. 

“Oh my friends,” Hanamiya simpers, hiding behind a rock with the alligators swarming below, snapping their jaws. He’ll just charm them like he charmed Phido, the vulture. 

“What do you want with a person like me, no meat at all,” he drawls, “You deserve something better. Three times a day, something succulent!” 

They’re thrashing excitedly now— _ oh yeah, yeah man— _Their jaws are snapping, they’re biting each other a little, hanging on his words.

“Well I’m just the person to see that you get all the flesh you were never afforded!”

Snap, drool, slobber, it’s really getting out of hand— _ yeah, yeah, yeah! _

“Imagine the arms! And the legs and the thighs— and the hips and the lips and all of that!” 

They’re jumping and writhing out of control— _ Yeah! Fuck— yes! _

Hanamiya signals them to stop, and they do. “Just help me a little, and I won’t forget to feed you each day, a surprise that is plump, portly, paunchy, and _ fat!” _

They go mad, snapping and biting the air, roaring, leaping up in a frenzy.  
  


Now he’ll show that scrawny one-eyed brat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t kill me, I know the Colosseum wasn’t built yet when Caesar was alive. He /was/ the first to hold a Naumachia, but it was held somewhere else. Vespasian was the one who commissioned the Colosseum to be built, around 100 years later. Naumachia WERE held in the actual colosseum, just not Caesar’s. Also, the prisoners of war only saluted emperor claudis that way /once/ as far as we know, there’s no record of that being an actual tradition. I know I said at the beginning I was going to flub some historical facts and to just run with it, but i dont want to feel im spreading blatant misinformation.


	26. The Great Ruby Idol

The caravan has been making great time, considering they're on foot. It would go much quicker with animals, even accounting for more frequent stops for water and rest.

On their last stop to rest, Aomine has since complained about their lack of supplies and transport. Wakamatsu was standing around the camel, their only pack animal, while the others stopped to drink from another small oasis pool.

Kagami has been trying to tame the camel and Satsuki had wanted to be the first to try and ride on its back. Aomine had just had to suffer through the very excruciating decision of either letting Satsuki share a camel ride with Wakamatsu, or bite the bullet and ride with Wakamatsu himself. Let no man say he doesn't have true brotherly love for his sister, he just gave up getting to hug Kagami's back to keep this filthy commoner away from her.

Susa had said he'd never seen two more miserable people. Kagami had lead the camel by a rope, all dopey and happy, walking next to Satsuki, who'd just chatted away, and Aomine and Wakamatsu both glared down at them in annoyance.

At least it's over now. Actually... wait, no. He can still smell Wakamatsu. Aomine lifts a sleeve to sniff. Aw fuck, it's _on him._

The camel gets mad that they're still hanging around it, getting cranky. It's always friendly with Kagami, but their sour attitudes seem to affect its mood, because suddenly, it hocks a gigantic spitball onto the back of Wakamatsu's head. Aomine startles, leaping back.

"Fuck, he spit!" Wakamatsu curses, disgusted, wiping it with his hand. "Aw, Maxie... Ewww." 

"Pfff," Aomine snorts. "Wait, Maxie? How do you know what his name is?"

"Uh, Kagami told me?" Wakamatsu says irritation. Aomine frowns, raising a brow. This guy is going crazy from the heat, huh. Kagami doesn't talk.

"Huh?... Okay, whatever sure..." Wakamatsu scrubs the loogie off with sand, making Aomine wrinkle his nose. "I've been wondering. Where are your guys' horses anyways. You were sent out here with some, right? Did you guys eat 'em? Or did vultures get to them first."

Wakamatsu gets a faraway look on his face when he mentions the horses. "We don't have vultures around these parts."

"Uh what? Why not?"

"We don't talk about that."

Wakamatsu keeps looking spacy and doesn't say anything else. Aomine squints at his weird PTSD look, and almost yells, _did you eat your horses? _Kagami approaches with Susa, who groans, shoving Wakamatsu on the back of the head on his way past.

"Man, they start to hallucinate fast, don't they," Aomine mutters. Wakamatsu grumbles and picks himself up. Kagami pats his shoulder. Aomine huffs. Kagami's way too nice to this guy. "Anyway, you're getting on my nerves. Making a fool of yourself around my sister. Have some self-respect. Quit pestering her and I wouldn't have to watch you so closely. We'd both be happier about that. Leave us alone."

Actually, what's really getting on his nerves is Kagami constantly _smiling_ about Wakamatsu making a fool of himself. This dirty, desert bum is the worst thing to ever happen to him.

"Why, jealous?" Aomine's eyes go very wide, his rage igniting.

_"No."_

"I dunno', sounds like you're worried I'mma steal _both_ your important people. That's so sad. Have you seen me? Anyway it's no wonder you've got no chance with this one here," he jabs a thumb at Kagami, who reddens and turns to Max's saddlebags. "You and the princess stink like you broke a perfume bottle."

_"We stink? Excuse me? You smell like a camel's ballsack."_ Kagami starts violently shaking, scrabbling at Max's side, collapsing forward as he silently laughs.

"You smell like you actually wash between your cheeks. Every time you bend over I smell desperation. You're so sad, man." And this is where Aomine realizes he's met his match as far as self-absorbtion and lack of self-awareness go, because Wakamatsu, stinky sand-dweller Wakamatsu quips, "At least I actually have a chance with mine," and Aomine's just floored.

_'Oh my god. Oh my god, you absolutely do not, how can you possibly think that. Satsuki's just too nice to tell you her eyes are watering every time you talk to her. Do you really not know you smell?'_

Kagami's laughing, but then a look of realization comes over his face and he tentatively lifts his arm to sniff. He makes eye contact with Aomine, then starts coughing from the force of his own body odor. Then he touches Wakamatsu's ragged sleeve and vaguely points towards the oasis, as if to say, _'uhh... maybe we should bathe, dude...'_

Aomine looks over to where Satsuki is sitting in the palanquin, curtains open, a few brigands fawning over her, and suddenly is struck with the horrible thought, _fuck, is falling for dirty people genetic._

_'I mean, my mom was poor.... Wait, no. It must've come from dad, because he fell for my mom. He gave us the 'love poor people genes. Oh my fucking god.'_

"Oh my god," Aomine grits out, furrowing his brow. "When we get back, I'm going to have you flogged."

"Princess Satsuki will have mercy on me."

"I don't care."

"Kagami won't let you, and you'll listen to him." Aomine takes a breath, then holds it, irritated. "If you're gonna' fuck with someone, you're not gonna' fuck with me, you little shit," Wakamatsu says.  
  
Aomine puffs up. "THIS IS WHY I SENT YOU INTO THE DESERT."

Wakamatsu smirks. "What can I say, this gift is a burden." He swings his sword to show off and ends up flinging it instead, whacking Max in the saddle. Max kicks out, hitting Aomine in the stomach and knocking him backwards into Wakamatsu, and onto the ground in a heap. 

Aomine curls up on the ground, hugging his gut. "I'm gonna' kill you," he wheezes.

Wakamatsu hugs his ribs, moaning. "We're in the desert, you can't punish me."

Kagami, after trying to calm Max down, holding his reins as he tosses his head, rushes to them to check them. He shakes his head with an exasperated sigh, helping them up. 

He and the others all make a concerted effort to keep those two separated for the rest of the trip, which isn't hard, as Aomine stays with Satsuki in the palanquin. It's an effective measure to keep her apart from that idiot, but it also means he can't spend the time with Kagami that he likes, and it's putting him in a bad mood.

It doesn't help that as they're traveling, in the far-off distance, one day Aomine thinks he spots a horse eating something meaty. 

"I told you. No vultures."

"Oh Ishtar's tits, are you serious."  
  
Other than lots of bickering, they've kept their spirits high as they journey. Marching feet stomp through the sand to a clumsy beat.

Rough soles and missing toenails litter those brown, callused feet, each with a shoe on it inventively made out of old braces, rope, and sacking. As they march, the brigands sing. Susa knows a lot of old sailor songs, which are funny to sing in the desert, on an ocean of sand— he calls out a line, and the brigands belt it back. 

He and Wakamatsu walk up in front with Kagami as he leads the camel. Kagami hums with them absently. It certainly passes the time and keeps up morale. Even Aomine thinks about joining, once he's learned the words through sheer repetition.

Kagami, who has the worst shoes of all, suddenly stops, holding an arm out, but despite his signal, the brigands crash into each other behind him. He grimaces, almost punted over, forced to stumble forward.

“Halt, men! Are you blind?!” Wakamatsu shouts in Kagami's stead, berating them for him. 

“Hey, I’m the captain,” Imayoshi complains. “You’re not in charge.”

“Hush up, you! You _are_ blind! You can't lead the way!”

Kagami waves his hand behind him and looks up. The gigantic mountain stretches out before them. It’s taken them the better part of the morning to approach the tower, and keep in mind, it already looks big from a distance, but as they approach he realizes just how far away it is because of how long it remains the same size on the horizon. It doesn’t feel like they’re getting any closer. It’s gotta be absolutely _ massive. _

As they finally start to clear ground, he feels his jaw slacken in awe. What an amazing piece of work made by the ancients, a humongous arm stretching out of the ground and towering into the sky, a large hand reaching to the heavens. But the shaft of the arm, fuck— The entire thing is made up of smaller, but still colossal sculptures of hands, individually sculpted and interlocking to form the arm of a giant. 

_ ‘Fuck, that’s amazing.’ _

High, high up above them, there’s a ring of fog around the wrist of the mountain, way up there, the clouds circling it like a bracelet.

At the foot of the mountain is the golden idol, and in its forehead is the ruby. The idol is circled by armed guards, the protectors of the ruby, who gaze indifferently at the arriving party.

Aomine looks out of the palanquin when they stop. “Oh, we’re here,” he realizes, stepping out into the sun and squinting upwards. He holds up a hand to shade his eyes.

“Fuck, Shamash, I know the sun is like, your thing, but could you stand to take a break?” Satsuki calls out after him to stop blaspheming in front of a holy mountain— “Whatever, it’s not like he can actually hear me from here,” Aomine derides, fanning himself with a paper fan.

Kagami is studying the whole scene. The gold idol and the ruby are interesting enough but the tower of hands absolutely dazzles him, fascinates him and enamors his artistic side. How had such a thing been built? How had they quarried the stone and dragged it all out here? He can’t even imagine it.

A third of the way up the arm mountain, he can see steps winding up one side, some of the hands laying down flat, the palms of the hands laid out as a platform, but there’s no way to get to them that he can see.

“I knew you’d get us here, Kagami.” Kagami looks up to see Aomine smiling at him, standing beside him.

“Yeah, good work, Kagami,” Wakamatsu agrees, and Aomine scowls. “So what are we supposed to do now? How do we get up there?”

Aomine takes a breath to insult him and then, after a beat, lets it out. “Actually… Fuck, I don’t know,” he admits, looking to the palanquin awkwardly, as if Satsuki can rescue him with some obscure piece of knowledge he’d forgotten. “Dad said that a hidden door would just… I don’t know… _ appear.” _

“What?” Wakamatsu scoffs, crossing his arms. “How?”

“I don’t know?!” Aomine squawks defensively. Kagami frowns, almost disappointed, and Aomine mutters, “He made it sound like it’d just _ make itself apparent _when the sun falls in the right spot or something.”

“What, so we just _ sit here and fry until then? _ Aren’t we in a hurry?_” _

“Well what else are we supposed to do?! I don’t see _ you _coming up with anything!” Kagami gets between them and puts a hand on each of their chests to push them apart when they start getting in each other’s faces.

“I don’t _ have _ to come up with _ shit! _ You’re the prince, aren’t you?! The only fucking thing you’re good for is bossing people around, right?! So _ lead!” _

“Why doesn’t Imayoshi have to come up with anything then?! He’s supposed to know what he’s doing!” Aomine glares around, looking for him, wanting someone to share blame with. “Imayoshi, what do you suggest?”

“Now now, gentlemen, no need to argue,” Imayoshi interjects with a smile. “I’d say this is a perfect time to consult the Brigand’s Handbook.”

Other brigands start to perk up and nod, mumbling their agreement. Aomine cocks his head. Wakamatsu looks ready to scream. 

“You have a handbook?” Aomine says skeptically. Kagami’s looking interested.

“Indeed we do. And I’m sure it knows just what this situation calls for, if you’ll allow me, my prince.”

Aomine squints for a second, and then shakes his head in bewilderment, shrugging. “Yeah sure… I’m just surprised you guys didn’t eat that to survive years ago. Considering you succumbed to eating your hor-”

His eyes pop open in alarm as the brigands bust forward and form a crowd around Imayoshi as he cracks this moldy tome open and peers in at the pages. Kagami’s trying to get close and look too. 

“Mountain… mountain… ah, here! There’s a picture of the mountain right here!”

Wakamatsu is standing back with a thunderous expression, but even Aomine can’t completely hide his interest, casually leaning in a little to try and see. Sure enough, on the dusty old page, there’s a drawing of the holy mountain.

“Maym is for… mountain…” Imayoshi slowly reads. “Y… you are… in the pres… presence of the gods!” he crows as he makes it out. “Pros… prostrate yourselves and pray.”

"What?! That's _it?!_" Wakamatsu shouts. "What horse's ass came up with that?!"

No one pays him attention. The men immediately disperse, find places to kneel in the sand facing the mountain, and settle into poses of solemn contemplation.

That… didn’t solve a damn thing. 

Aomine’s about to yell at Imayoshi that what he _ wanted _ was Imayoshi’s personal opinion as a military officer on what their next course of action should be, not to pawn off responsibility on a book, which, by the way, he’s _ positive _ isn’t the standard handbook his father’s men are given. Stop and pray for an indefinite period? Seriously? That’s _ it? _

Aomine turns and exchanges a look with Wakamatsu, who raises a brow and glares back. Okay, yeah, this book is trash.

“That’s not that much different than what Dad told us to do, actually,” Aomine mutters at last, running a hand through his hair, blistering hot from the sun.

“I guess now… we wait?” he mutters, exchanging an uncertain glance with Kagami, who shrugs, and goes to sit and rest his legs with the others, hugging his knees and wondrously gazing up at the mountain instead of bowing his head in meditative prayer like the others.

Aomine stands there for a second and watches, but it’s too hot, and the door isn’t appearing. Fuck, he needs to consult with Satsuki.

Wakamatsu stares at Aomine as he retreats, and Aomine gives him a weird look in return, glaring over his shoulder as he walks back to the palanquin to talk to Satsuki. She decides to come outside and wait there so she can watch for the door with them, so Aomine trails behind her, a bit resentful that they couldn’t wait in the shade. At least he gets to sit with Kagami.

It’s just around noon now, so the sun is high in the sky, roasting hot, and no one has the energy to talk much. Aomine sits around with Satsuki, trying to move as little as possible, fanning the both of them with a paper fan.

He has a lot of time to think, laying there panting and sweating, and his mind wanders to last night, Kagami’s bright enraptured face, as he listens to the stories, taken away to a different place. It’s strange. Aomine was brought up surrounded by such opulent things, and it seems Kagami has so much more of an appreciation for life, finding the beauty even in the most simple things and focusing on it, savoring it. His face is wan with hardship, but he dreams the most vibrant dreams. His hands are rough and callused but they create the most beautiful art. He's so simple and earnest, and yet, he's won Aomine's heart.

Aomine enjoys it so much, just watching Kagami as he gazes on the moon, on a flower, or the holy mountain, his expression so sweet, awe filled. His imagination seems to carry him away, just listening to Wakamatsu describe the past. Aomine hopes one day he can dazzle Kagami that way himself.

_ I have stories _ _ too _ _ , _ Aomine thinks resentfully.

Perhaps when all this is over, he’ll tell him of the cosmic births. He imagines walking in the garden together, laying comfortably in his rooms, perhaps resting Kagami’s head in his lap so he can stroke his hair and feed him— tell him stories and set his fantasies running free. The cosmic births, the Enuma Elis and the battle between the gods and the mighty Marduk, the tale of Gilgamesh and the bull of heaven, and his great love for Enkidu— the fabulous story of Ishtar’s descent into the underworld...

When all this is over, when war no longer looms on the horizon, when his concerns are naught but peace and happiness once more, he’ll tell Kagami of the ruthless King Shahryar, outwitted by the cunning girl Scheherazade for a thousand nights, Sinbad’s seven voyages, Ali Baba and Kassim and faithful Morgiana and the thieves and the magical cave, poor Aladdin’s wonderful lamp and the mysterious djinn— he’ll take Kagami and charm him as he charms his little brothers and sisters, he’ll let him sit and listen, let him dream.

And maybe, just maybe, he can work just a tiny bit of Scheherazade’s magic, tell a story so fantastic, so magical, that by the end, Kagami will have fallen in love with him.

Appearing on the sand dune behind the waiting caravan, a little head pops up, eyes gleaming.   
  


Okay, yep, dirty clods laying around like bums, stinking in the sun, a tired princess drooping like a wilting flower and a sweaty prince tugging the neckline of his robe scandalously low. Big-nose redhead sits with a blonde guy, hanging around and chatting next to the resting camel.

And what do we have here— he hones in on the circle of guards, and feels a shudder rattle through his bones, immediately honing in on the huge ruby gleaming in the forehead of a golden idol. It’s a buddha statue, solid gold and very fat, set onto a pedestal ringed by a circle of guards, within a field of the many colorful spined plants growing around the foot of the holy mountain.

Kuroko creeps forward. _ Oh yesss— just a closer look—   
  
_

Nobody notices him, as usual.

Wakamatsu nudges Kagami and points up at the tower made of hands and an outcropping with a couple trees growing on it, way up high.

“Hey Kagami— What kind of trees grow on a tower of hands?” 

Kagami waits.

“Palm trees.”

Snorting, Kagami quickly turns around, shoulders shooting up. Satsuki’s laughter bursts out from behind them like chimes, a sweet peal of giggles. Wakamatsu looks both mortified that she’d heard, and thrilled beyond belief to hear her laugh— 

“It wasn’t that funny,” Aomine denies sourly. Kagami rolls his eyes.

They settle in to sit and wait for the moment the sun will hit the ruby and reveal the hidden door. Aomine patiently teaches Kagami some card games, taking the opportunity to touch his hands as much as possible as he shows him how to hold the cards. Wakamatsu is looming behind Satsuki, standing in the sun’s path in an attempt to shade her, but mostly he just ends up getting underfoot of the eunuch guard fanning her and the prince, making a nuisance of himself— Kagami smiles knowingly. Aomine rolls his eyes back and picks his teeth with his tongue, irritated, but keeps his grumbling to a minimum.

After about an hour, the men have tired of praying so hard, and have wandered over to lay around and talk and watch their game. “Stop peeking at her majesty’s cards!” Wakamatsu barks, kicking someone in the shoulder. The crowd jostles them, but Kagami barely notices, caught up in a content and thrilled buzz. Prince Aomine has stubbornly planted himself at his side, seated on a mat, and won’t be removed, long fingers arranging the pretty, hand-painted cards.

It’s been so long waiting now that Wakamatsu’s already starting to peel and blister, and Kagami can’t stop staring at him in exasperated pity, because his stubbornness is kinda sweet, but... _ dude, they’ve been carried in a shaded palanquin this whole time, she doesn’t need you as a sun-shield— you're gonna end up with really unattractive tanlines to boot._

Kagami’s just about convinced Aomine to deal in some of the others to their game when something happens and a hush falls.

“Look!” Susa calls, pointing, and Satsuki gasps.

There is a mystic darkening of the idol. In fact, the entire earth seems to have darkened, the sand, the sun, the sky, everything— it’s all darkening from the gold of the desert sands to the purples of the evening. 

And the ruby, the ruby begins to _ glow. _

Aomine looks up, and Kagami follows his gaze. With a start, he realizes excitedly, “Guys— the sun’s directly overhead!”

They all look, and just as the sun takes exactly the right angle, roasting them all to a crisp, a ray of light beams down vertically onto the ruby set into the idol. The ruby glows so brilliantly it’s almost impossible to look at directly, reflecting another ray of light like a laser— the shaft of the beam shines onto the mountain wall.

Awestruck, the brigands back away, whispering to themselves. “Magic—” “It’s powerful magic from another world—” “Shit, what the fuck.” “Pray guys, keep praying and we’ll be spared...”

Aomine, Kagami, and Satsuki look back at the lot of them, who seem hesitant suddenly, shying back and looking uneasy. They stand in a skittish crowd and finally look to the three staring at them. Even Wakamatsu looks like he’s changing his mind now.

“......?” Aomine narrows his eyes.

“Uh… You go ahead, won’t you, Kagami?” Imayoshi prompts with a sly smile.

Kagami nods earnestly, starting forward, the simple, brave idiot. Aomine glares back at them— _ how dare you take advantage of him! — _ but Susa just shrugs.

Deciding to leave the palanquin and go on foot through the mountain with Kagami, he and Satsuki stay out and walk, plodding through the sand up to the base of the pillar. They all hitch themselves up and loom behind Kagami at the edge of the bramble field. Kagami doesn’t stop, walking up to the mountain wall where the light shines, waist deep in the prickly multi-colored bushes. 

Aomine follows a few steps behind, more carefully, to avoid trodding on thorns. Leaves and needles skitter along his pants, tugging and snagging at the silk threads. He comes to a stop next to Kagami, who’s frowning up at the wall of sculpture, tentatively putting a hand out to feel. He blinks, eyes popping open, and he feels the stone more, turning to Aomine with a smile. 

“Don’t touch!” one of them calls out in warning. “Kagami, careful—!” “Be careful, you two!”

Aomine places a hand out to touch after a moment’s hesitation, next to Kagami’s. The stone is rough, but very warm, having soaked up the sun’s rays. It’s actually really pleasant, touching it.

“Daiki, what’s happening? Tell us, do you see anything?” Satsuki calls, hands cupped around her mouth.

“I don’t see any door!” Wakamatsu calls out, hanging back with the rest, but he’s broken away from the group and is standing with Satsuki at the edge of the bushes. Kagami frowns thoughtfully at the spot where the light strikes the wall. He tentatively reaches up to touch the stone, but quickly yanks his hand back with a hiss, putting his fingers in his mouth. 

Disgruntled, he sheepishly looks at Aomine, who laughs a little and takes his hand to check. A small burn is on his fingertip. Aomine is about to lift it to his lips to kiss, but Kagami takes his hand away to pick up a stick and poke at the wall with a confused frown.

Aomine hums. “This reminds me, Kagami,” he says. “Of Ishtar approaching the gates of the underworld and demanding the gatekeeper let her pass.”

Kagami looks up, interested.

  
“If you do not open the gate for me to come in,

I shall smash the door and shatter the bolt,

I shall smash the doorpost and overturn the doors,

I shall raise up the dead and they shall eat the living;

And the dead shall outnumber the living!”  
  


Aomine wishes there were time to tell him the rest, but they’re in the middle of their own story. Their own adventure. It’s actually really exhilarating, being here together, out on their own in a strange place, seeking the unknown. 

Kagami thinks on his words for a time. Then he tentatively raises up his hands, one in a fist, and punches his open palm with a _ smack— _ Aomine laughs. “Maybe don’t break it if we don’t have to.”

Kagami turns and leans in, feeling around where the light shines on the wall, but there’s nothing there. He touches the spot again and hisses again, sucking on burnt fingers. 

Aomine suggests jokingly, “Open sesame?” but nothing happens. 

Kagami leans in and presses his ear to the wall to listen as he knocks his hand on one of the… _ hands. _He does it again and then pulls back, beckoning Aomine in and pointing. Aomine should be focusing on the task at hand, as Kagami is taking this seriously, but all he can think about is that it feels so intimate to move in so close next to him, the both of them pressed up against the stone wall, facing each other. He can feel Kagami’s breath on his nose as he leans in to listen. Kagami knocks, and it takes Aomine a moment to realize what he's trying to show him and then it hits him— it sounds hollow. 

It’s the door.

Kagami tentatively grabs onto a large thumb and tugs it. He tugs again, bracing his foot on the wall, and Aomine steps up to grab it too and help him, and they pull it down together.

With a rumble, the hands part like doors to reveal an inner staircase through a dark tunnel. It smells musty and damp, like mold. Whoa, fuck— Kagami actually found it. Aomine's speechless for a time. He still can't believe it worked. It's really here, just like Dad said... It's a lot spookier than he'd thought it would look.

"Oh!" Satsuki cries. "Wonderful! You did it!" Her voice dies away as she gets closer, becoming uncertain. The rest of the men have approached behind them, and they all stare into the dark space, amazed and intimidated. 

When he’s done gaping, Aomine breaks the silence with, “Well fuck me with Anu’s gigantic sky dick—” Satsuki gasps and swats him. Wakamatsu starts snickering.

Kagami pokes his head in through the doorway, looking up and around, takes a careful step into the shadows, bravely walking in. Aomine tentatively follows a step, signaling the guards to follow with a jeweled casket. 

“Amazing,” he mumbles, following Kagami with a smile growing on his face.

They lead the palanquin up through the door and into the mountain, all funneling inside. As the file in, the brigands linger back near the archway, looking uncertain, all shoving and jostling each other to make others go in front.

Satsuki looks back, peering around the palanquin and the guards back to the circle of light where they all stand looking in at them, their stupid faces pinched and uneasy. Aomine halts when he notices she’s strayed from his side, and looks down the tunnel with her, giving them all a stink eye from behind her back.

“Won’t the royal guard proceed as well?” she calls, and they start to shuffle their feet sheepishly.

Imayoshi hems and haws. Aomine grumbles through gritted teeth. “Sorry!” yelps Sakurai.

“Eh… Ah…” Imayoshi hesitates, muttering shiftily. “The royal guard… will proceed, yes,” he says finally. 

“Right, yes—” they all mumble, but look a bit reluctant to shuffle in and follow. 

“Are you sheep or men?!” Wakamatsu barks, although he’s looking a little wobbly-kneed too. “Where are your balls?!” he demands, berating them. “Don’t tell me they cut them off back in the palace!” He puffs himself up and marches in, and they shamefacedly follow him.

“Fuck.” — “Fine.” — “God damnit.” — “You need to shut your trap, Wakamatsu.”

“Then get in and quit looking like a bunch of whimpering mutts, you chicken-dicks!”

Oblivious to the group making their way up inside the mountain, Kuroko’s eyes are on the ruby set into the forehead of the idol.

He creeps towards the ring of guards, past all the tourist signs, each reading _ Great Ruby Idol, _hundreds of wooden arrows painted in different languages. They’re overgrown with desert plants and the paint is flecked and worn on the brittle wood. The sand is strewn with bits of trash. The signs lead him in and he walks around the guards in a circle, searching for a way to get by them, but there is none. They stand in a ring around the base of the idol’s pedestal, looking down at him with beady eyes. 

He drifts along, transfixed by the ruby, until he walks smack into a sign. He looks up and reads, _ no prayers past this point. _

He backs away from the guards and the idol, eyes still focused on the ruby. Just behind him, the last brigand enters the mountain and the doors close behind them.  
  
  


“Fuck!” he yelps as they’re plunged into darkness. 

“What’s going on?!” — “Are we trapped!” — “Hush up, don’t yell, it echoes!” — “Don’t collapse the tunnel!” — _ “It’ll collapse?!” _ — “SHHH!” — “Stop squirming!” — “Sorry!” — “We need to turn back, Kagami doesn't know what he’s doing!” — “Yeah, he doesn’t know dick!”

“Shut up, you reprobates!” Wakamatsu barks, “Give the kid some credit, he got us here, didn’t he?!”

“That’s enough, you lot,” Susa says, and they resentfully settle. “Look, see that light up ahead?” They crane their heads and look up to the front of the party where Kagami leads one step at a time through the darkness. There’s a glow of sunlight way up ahead.

“Yes, see the light?” Imayoshi parrots, smiling slyly when the men laugh and some of the tension dissipates. Clearing his throat, he orders. “Steady, men! Onward!—”

Kagami leads the way through the eerie tunnel up onto some winding steps, climbing through the darkness. Aomine is panting and Satsuki’s being carried, unused to the strenuous exercise.

As they make it back out into the sunlight, Aomine feels a sudden swoop in his gut when the open sky comes into view and the wind hits him, dragging his clothes. The winding steps have led them out onto the side of the mountain, the path continuing around the side up to the pinnacle.

“Oh fuck! This is so much fucking worse!” someone bellows from behind him. He thinks it’s Tsugawa. They all start flipping their shit.

“Fuck this! I wanna’ go home!” 

“Are you kidding me right now?!”

“Keep your heads, boys, we’re nearly there,” Imayoshi calls, trying to keep order, but they’re not having it, glued to the wall and wobbling, yelping each time the wind blows.

“Easy for you to fucking say!” — “You can’t see jack shit, you blind fuck!” — “Hey, keep it the fuck together!” 

_“Stop with the fucking swearing with a lady present!”_ Wakamatsu bellows. He didn’t get the privilege of carrying Satsuki, but he’s lingering close behind Susa, where she’s hitched up on his back, arms half out as if to catch her should she start to slip.

“Just keep calm, all of you!” Satsuki calls, clinging on despite being tied on quite securely. “There’s no sense getting hysterical!” she assures, sounding a bit shrill and nervous. “Just keep your heads, we’ll be there soon!”

“You heard her, let’s go, pick up your feet!” Imayoshi orders, held firm by the arm by Susa.

“Yessir!” they reluctantly chorus, and it’s quiet other than the shuffling of rough feet for a minute or so.

“At least it’s cooler up here,” someone mentions, and there’s a hum of general agreement. 

It’s true, the sun isn’t roasting them as badly up here. The atmosphere is a tolerable and temperate touch to their feverish skin.

Aomine, for his part, has one hand clinging to the mountain wall, staying a step behind Kagami. Kagami is quiet, shoulders tense as he bravely leads them all up, slow and steady. Making this journey together, Aomine can’t help but feel even closer to him. What an amazing adventure— he now knows how Gilgamesh felt, adventuring with Enkidu. A selfish and wicked king who learns humility, learns how to be a good and just king when he finds a great love.

He’s sure it will make a good story later, but it’s fucking scary in the moment, isn’t it.

“Fuck, we’re so high up,” Tsugawa whimpers from the back. “I just looked over the edge again guys...”

“Don’t look over!”

Aomine can’t help but look too when they say that, and feels his head swoop with nausea, his gut quaking. It’s a mind-boggling drop down the sheer cliff. They’ve already come so high and they’re still climbing. The path is getting narrower, wide enough for two men to stand abreast, but the fall is so high that they’re going in single-file.

He wants to reach out and grab Kagami’s hand, nearly yelping himself when the wind blows particularly harshly. “Kagami,” he says, and Kagami leans onto the wall to get steady, looking a bit to him over his shoulder. “Kagami, aren’t you afraid of heights?” Aomine gets out, shaky and uncertain. He wants to turn back. He’s scared— What if he falls?

Kagami nods and shrugs little, but turns and plants his back firmly against the wall, looking off into the open sky. He smiles at Aomine, the sun lighting him from behind, wind ruffling his hair. He takes Aomine’s hand and squeezes it, then points out with his free hand. 

_ Look— _ he seems to say, and Aomine manages to rip his eyes away from his face, away from the stone beneath their feet, away from the mountain wall, the only things keeping him secure when he’s a million miles from home, a million miles from the ground— he manages to _ let go _ and release the tight grip of fear knotting in his stomach and looks out on the horizon with Kagami.

The stretch of the desert seems endless, the sands gold and red, and in the distance, the purple mountains. It’s beautiful. Aomine feels his shoulders lower. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Yeah, wow, it’s…” He looks up and Kagami’s smiling.

He squeezes Aomine’s hand and shakes it a little, as if to encourage him, _ we’re almost there, just a little longer— _

Then he turns and continues his slow climb up the mountain steps, stopping each time the wind blows and grabs at them. Aomine follows, the terror gripping his heart loosening, determination taking root instead.

“Kagami, c’mon man, are you sure you know what you’re doing?!” Kagami raises a hand and waves, but doesn’t turn around, continuing up.

“Prince Aomine, he’s going to get us all killed! Let’s turn back!”

Aomine, looking back, sees Wakamatsu, Imayoshi, and all his men flattened against the mountain wall, inching along sideways, although there’s plenty of room between them and the edge. 

“Careful men, not too near the edge!” Imayoshi warns, blindly led along by Sakurai and Susa.

“Don’t look down, don’t look down!” — “Make your own arrangements” — “Now I lay me down to sleep—!” 

Aomine’s just about to tell them to pipe down already when Wakamatsu groans, “Oh shut up—!” He’s looking pretty pale in the face himself, sweating buckets and looking a minute away from tossing it.

“Stop talking about it!” he wrenches out, head swooping down with vertigo at the sight of the drop. _ “Susa— _ you, you don’t drop the princess now!”

“I’ve got her majesty just fine. Question is, have you got your lunch,” Susa says, but Wakamatsu pushes past him, shaky but determined to walk up the mountain like a man.

Far, far below them, a little thief schemes— schemes and climbs.

He climbs over hands, over gigantic thumbs and fingertips, dragging himself towards a platform looming above him. He fearlessly struggles up the mountain wall, frequently looking over his shoulder, down at the golden idol below him.

Those guards are surrounding it from all sides, but not from above! He’ll just climb up and then jump down straight onto it!

The caravan of scared brigands climbs up one side of the mountain, and Kuroko is on the other, doing it the hard way, scaling the cliff face. They say bravery is just disguised stupidity. But is being too stupid to recognize a present danger the same as being brave—?  
  
  
  


Kagami is really struggling up at the front. The climb has gotten really steep and his heart is hammering hard in his chest. He spares a delirious thought for the fact that he never would’ve imagined he’d be climbing a mystic mountain a week ago, trying fruitlessly to sell his shoes at the market from the crack of dawn until the shops closed.

The party behind him is walking in single file, no one brave enough to stand abreast and be on the outside close to the edge. It’s better that way, a gust of wind could pick a man off his feet, it’s better not risked.

He looks back at Prince Daiki, who offers a smile up at him, strained and pale. “Almost there?” he asks, and Kagami means to nod, because he thinks they are, but as he tries to twist back towards him a little more, his foot slips on a loose stone and he lurches down, swaying.  
  
Everyone freezes and holds their breath. Princess Satsuki clasps her hands on both sides of her head and shrieks.

He sees a flash of Prince Daiki’s face, slack with horror. Princess Satsuki’s scream echoes and makes their hair stand on end. Before he can go down, he grabs a finger sticking out from the wall, promptly pulling himself back up. Everyone lets it out, cursing and wheezing.

“GOD! You gave me a heart attack! Don’t do that shit again!” Wakamatsu barks from the middle, a pitiful yelp.

Kagami waves a hand sheepishly and turns. Aomine’s expression is unbearably tight.

He follows up behind him, hands shaking, heart in his throat. Fuck, that was a close encounter. The heroes never die in their own story, but this isn't a story.

Their adventure can fall ever so easily, just as the city will, to destruction and death—

Unknown to the trembling brigands, a little thief climbs upwards determinedly, nearing the platform, and unknown to _ him, _he’s climbing in the same position as a man far, far away, in an alligator pit underground in the One Eyes camp.

Hanamiya is climbing a ladder made of alligators, using them as stairs. He steps carefully past their jaws. 

“Excuse me, I hope you don’t mind— pardon me, thank you, thank you very much—”  
  
  


Kuroko’s not having as easy a time of it, dragging himself up the rock face inch by inch and up onto the surface of a massive outstretched stone hand, panting and swaying woozily. 

Standing up and wheezing, Kuroko notices two banana trees sprouting from the platform. He stumbles over and leans over the ledge, looking down. The idol sparkles far below him. He’s nearly all the way up the mountain.

That’s when he hatches an idea. 

He breaks a huge yellow leaf off the banana tree and inserts it into his sleeve. Then he puts another big leaf in his other sleeve. Adjusting his wings, he stands up straight, toes up at the edge of the platform. 

Yes, this will absolutely work.

He looks over the side, down, down, down to the idol below and the glittering ruby at its forehead. He crouches down, wings folded above him like a fly. He spreads his wings, and instead of diving gracefully, he hops out into space and promptly falls like a stone.

He tries to flap his wings, but the velocity of his fall drags his wings behind him and he nosedives, the ground rapidly coming closer.

Now, he didn’t deserve for this ridiculously stupid plan to work. He really didn’t. He deserved to splat on the sand below and turn into a red stain to answer for his idiocy, but some amazing, otherworldly luck causes a single gust of wind to catch him and the palm leaves as the ground rushes up to meet him.

The stone dais around the idol comes flying up and whips past. He zooms _ one inch _ above the spear tips of the idol’s guards. He’s fucking _ flying— _

Kuroko looks back at his wings and leers in satisfaction. Aw yeah.

He rocks back and forth as he zooms, testing for control, and then, full of confidence, he banks away into the distance, looping in the wind and veering back in the direction of the ruby. Master of the situation, arcing upwards, high into the clouds, he does a victory roll as his shadow flashes over the party climbing below on the mountain.  
  


Startled by the flashing shadow, the brigands look up at Kuroko’s winged silhouette shooting past. Tsugawa yelps, falling back against the wall, and they all promptly lose their shit.

“A giant bird!” — “Oh my god! Giant bird!”

They all boxcar into each other. Max has had enough, sitting down stubbornly. Kagami points ahead of them frustratedly, but no one moves.

“May I get down?” Susa lets Satsuki down, and she climbs up ahead to hold the back of Aomine’s robe. She looks back. “Will the guard proceed?”

“Yes!” Wakamatsu calls, but he’s drowned out by a chorus of yelps. “Wakamatsu, you can go fuck yourself!” — “No! No way, Princess!” — “Not a step further!”

“But we’re _ here!” _ Satsuki cries, and they all quiet and look up ahead.

They are. The top of the steep stairs are visible from where they stand, leading up to a cleft at the top of a cavern where an eerie cloud of green smoke hovers. Aomine and Kagami stick their heads out curiously. “What is that?” Aomine whispers, and Kagami frowns, shaking his head. 

“What the fuck is that?! Oh _ fuck _no!” The brigands all huddle back behind Imayoshi. They’ve practically hogtied Wakamatsu to shut him up as they protest.

“Can’t go up there!” — “It’s protected by a giant bird!” 

The huge shadow whips past again, and they all fall into a fit of screaming. 

“There it is again!” — “Oh god!” — “This is it!”

Imayoshi, chuckling nervously, squints and says, “Ah, Princess… The handbook has an entry logged for what to do in case of giant birds, and that’s a swift retreat. Perhaps we ought to stay out here.” Kagami and Aomine exchange a wry glance. Imayoshi turns and looks back at his group of grimacing men, regardless of whether he can see them or not. 

“To guard the way against intruders, you know,” he says when he turns back around to her. 

“Yes, against intruders,” Susa helps. “Just in case.”

Satsuki puts her hands on her hips and they at least have the decency to look ashamed. Aomine rolls his eyes and puts his arm around her, ushering away from those ridiculous guys and steering her up in front of him.

“Yeah Imayoshi, you stay here and guard the exit— we’re going up,” Aomine says flatly, and turns.

Wakamatsu deflates, shoulders slumping in disappointment. Then he kicks Tsugawa in the shin. “I’m gonna’ throw you off this mountain!”

“Hey, hey, hey! Whoa!” — “Dangerous!” — “Break it up, you two!”  
  
“Don’t fight, we’ll be back soon!” Satsuki calls, leaning around Aomine, and Wakamatsu pauses, grappling with Tsugawa and wrangling him by the neck.

“Ah Satsuki, hush,” Aomine hums. “Don’t worry yourself over those fools—”

“That’s right boys, we’re the royal guard, shape up!” Imayoshi orders, and they stand straight, although a couple of them look like they’d like to tell him to get stuffed.

“Aye Princess!” — “We’ll let nobody out unless they want to go in!” — “Let nobody in unless they want to go out!” — “Shut up! Shut up and pay attention!” — “Sorry!”

Kagami shakes his head and rolls his eyes. Aomine’s grumbling and cursing as he comes up behind him. The four eunuch guards march up with them and lift the jeweled casket towards the last stairs. Satsuki, Aomine, and Kagami stand together on the last step, looking around the lofty cavern in confusion, hesitating to step forward to greet the witch.

They’re quiet for a moment until Aomine can’t stand it any longer. “No one’s there,” he hisses. Satsuki frowns, taking a few steps away to turn slowly and look around the high ceiling.

Aomine’s feeling nervous now. They’ve come all the way here and it’s time to do what they’ve come here to do— what if there is no witch after all? When did Dad hear about this legend anyway? She probably died years ago.

A whip cracks in the dark camp of the One Eyes.

From behind a rock, eight alligators harnessed two by two pull Hanamiya on a sled. Their little legs scurry frantically as they race at breakneck speed into the One Eye camp. 

“Faster!” he cries. “Take me to your Master!” 

One Eye soldiers rise from their ale and pig legs and surround Hanamiya and his sled as he circles in the clearing. The dust settles and the alligators pant and wheeze, mouths open. 

Hanamiya cracks his whip before the One Eye soldiers, grinning cockily. Time to use this to his advantage and bullshit his way through. This will prove him to Akashi.

“Don’t treat me lightly twice, I warn you,” he calls. “Take me to Mighty One Eye at once.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I sort of disappeared. Life got real. I graduated during the pandemic and had to get a factory job, which has been leeching my energy big time. I'm gonna' give it my best to just finish this and post the rest. Thanks for sticking with me, guys!


	27. Eenie, Meenie, Minie, Mo

Aomine, Satsuki, Kagami, and the four eunuch guards reach the top of the stairs, walking into the lofty cavern.

They’re in a valley between the thumb and forefinger of the mountain’s massive hand. Atop the hand, above a circling cloud, sails the giant bird.

Satsuki squints suspiciously. “That’s certainly not a bird,” she says, but Aomine doesn’t pay attention, too busy flirting and gushing.

“Taiga, I knew you’d get us here—” Kagami scuffs his foot, looking away. Aomine grins.

“Hadn’t we better greet the witch?” Satsuki interrupts.

Kagami nods, straightening up and cautiously starting forward. “Careful,” Aomine warns, creeping after a few steps back with Satsuki. Kagami holds an arm out, keeping them behind him.

The green smoke that they’d seen from the staircase is thicker now, traveling in tendrils, and as Kagami follows it to its source, he sees its coming from an urn sitting on the ground further in the cavern. 

Right before his eyes, the smoke billows, changing shape until he suddenly recognizes what looks like a ghostly hand at the end of a long tendril of fog. It beckons him, curling a finger.

Kagami looks back, wide-eyed, but they’re both staring, mouths ajar. Well at least he isn’t going insane, they all just saw that— but even so,  _ the fuck? _

“Magic,” Aomine whispers, and Kagami gulps.

He and Satsuki hang back while Kagami follows the ghostly hand, which continues to beckon him step over step all the way up to the urn. He stops in front of it as the smoke fingers sink down and disappear under the lid.

Glancing back uncertainly, Kagami holds his hands up as if to say,  _ the fuck do I do now —  _ Aomine keeps a firm hold of Satsuki’s arm, probably to keep her safely next to him, but from where Kagami’s sitting he’d say the prince is looking pretty spooked and is holding on for his own comfort.

“Go on, Kagami,” Satsuki encourages, and Kagami nods. He gingerly puts a hand out and lifts the lid of the urn, leaning forward to look inside.

A single eyeball is staring straight back at him, causing him to gasp and jump back, startled. “What?!” Aomine bursts, unable to see it from where they’re standing. “What is it!” 

Kagami frantically points at his eye, but it doesn’t help. “What? What,  _ look?”  _ He shakes his head as they start forward, waving his hands to make them stay back. “What happened?!”

Kagami doesn’t have to try to figure out how to explain, because the eyeball rises up on a tendril of smoke and peers out at them. Kagami gets to his feet and stumbles back, joining them. 

“... What the hell is  _ that?!” _ Aomine blurts, but Satsuki shushes him, taking a few steps forward. 

She clears her throat and addresses it, quite diplomatically all things considered— it’s a mystical floating eyeball after all. Kagami’s a bit impressed with her tact. 

“O mad and holy old witch?” she begins uncertainly, trying to keep… well,  _ eye contact _ with the eye, which hovers slightly above them, a few yards ahead. Aomine grips Kagami’s sleeve and starts a bit as the eye floats forward towards her, making himself hold still when his impulse is to grab her and pull her behind them and swat the eye away.

Satsuki gulps, struggling to keep from instinctively veering her head back as it looms in her face. “I am the Princess Satsuki of the Golden City,” she declares.

The eyeball stares at her, then retreats back into the urn and fades out. Kagami blinks a few times and rubs his eyes hard with his knuckles. He looks to Aomine, whose face is pinched in disbelief.

The ancient witch has half-materialized, partly see-through. She isn’t exactly made of smoke. It looks more the way smoke would were it contained inside a glass jar, trapped behind some invisible barrier and forced to take a specific shape.

Kagami stares in amazement at this tiny old woman. She has huge mouse-like ears which stick out from her head, and her white hair is drawn into a bun with knitting needles. Her face is as wrinkled and lined as a road map. Ribs, gangly hands and feet, leathery skin, she’s got to be three hundred years old, her breasts hanging like pendulums. 

Aomine busies himself looking elsewhere, clearing his throat uncomfortably. Satsuki also is speechless for a moment. Kagami creeps forward and crouches near her, holding a hand out to see if she wants help standing up.

The sight of her doesn’t bother him, he’s lived among the dregs of society for his entire stay in the Golden City, and a toothless old woman whose children and husband have died or abandoned her, living outside huddled in a corner with a blanket isn’t an uncommon occurrence.

Princess Satsuki, a kind-hearted soul, collects herself after a moment, and continues, unsure, “O Great Witch, we have travelled from far across the desert to find you—” 

Kagami waves a hand before the old woman’s eyes, not sure if she’s hearing  _ or _ seeing them. In fact, he has this impulsive urge to try poking her, to see if his finger will go through. Is she made of smoke?

Finally, there’s a noise which seems to emanate from some point in the cavern that’s impossible to pinpoint, a gummy hum of an annoyed groan, “I wasn’t expecting company...”

The witch’s arms and legs go boneless like spaghetti and she starts to fade back into smoke.

Aomine blinks, and looks to Kagami, who sits there stunned. They’re  _ all _ stunned. He rubs his eyes again, waves his hand through the spot where she’d been sitting a moment ago. Nothing— 

“What the fuck,” Aomine whispers. Kagami agrees.

Satsuki takes a few hesitant steps back, arms out, looking around and not knowing where to talk to exactly— “O great seer of mysteries! We’re sorry to disturb you unannounced! Our Golden City is going to be under attack! My father says you could tell us how we can save our city!” she calls, voice echoing through the cavern like clear bells.

The witch fades in slightly in a puff of smoke, floating through the air and muttering to herself. She looms towards Kagami, her face hovering at about eye height. 

“What a cute one—”

A smoky hand takes him by the cheeks. Kagami holds rigid in her grip, confused. 

When the ghostly outline leans forward and gives him a wet one, he freezes up, everything screeching to a halt, eyes popping open—  _ fuck—  _ then he flails wildly, ripping back. 

Aomine leaps forward, waving his hands through the smoke. “Hey, hey, hey!” he shouts, shaking his fist furiously at the retreating cloud.

Witch Lady fades in slightly, muttering to herself, little more than the outline of a face and a sheet of shapeless fog. Aomine’s pissed, glaring rudely. This old hag just  _ kissed  _ Kagami! On the mouth! Who the fuck does she think she is?!

“It’ll cost you, dearies,” she cooes. 

“We’ll pay,” Satsuki cries hopefully.

The witch suddenly pops in solid, no longer see through and standing on solid ground, her spaghetti arms stiffening with bones. “Pay! Pay me!” she screeches.

“Yes!” Satsuki says.

That’s when the witch transforms. 

Her leathery skin tightens and pales, her face changes, becoming smooth and youthful. Her hunched stature unfolds and becomes tall and proud, that of a woman in her thirties. White hair breaks its tie and hangs on her shoulders, blonde and lovely. As she changes, a skimpy desert goddess with glowing golden hair is revealed, standing bare, breasts taught and supple, clad only in a jeweled necklace that does little to cover her top, and a white robe around her hips, thigh revealed. 

Aomine’s eyes pop—  _ whoa. _

Kagami’s taken aback too, shuffling and stumbling back a few steps, and then starts to turn very, very red, covering his wet mouth with his hands in realization.

“Hey!” Aomine blurts when he notices.

“Alrightie, save your city,” comes a melodious voice from the Desert Witch. She’s barefooted, wild and radiant, and Aomine feels his jealous resentment weaken again immediately. She really is a captivating sight.

“... Ish… Ishtar?” he wonders hesitantly. It would make sense. Her… bountiful…  _ gifts _ would make sense to him if she really were goddess Ishtar— He’s jerked off to an image of her breasts enough that he should recognize them— 

“Alexandra the Witch at your service,” she greets, entirely too lively for someone who’d looked old, shriveled, and incorporeal but a moment ago. She’s lively to the point its intimidating. 

Vivacious and exuberant, her voice rings out, “Have we one here who can save your city?” 

She peers at each of them with a squint. “You?” The guards— “No.” Then she looks at Satsuki, “Not likely—” and then Aomine, who straightens despite himself.

“Not looking good.” Aomine slumps with a pout. Then she stops on Kagami, and her demeanor changes. She smiles slyly and shifts her body weight to one hip. Aomine bristles, feeling distinctly threatened. She laughs, covering her eyes with her hand.

“Wait, aren’t  _ you  _ supposed to tell us how to save the city? That’s what we’re paying for!” Aomine barks, finally getting his stride back, although her jugs are pretty distracting. They’re  _ really _ nice ones.

_ Whoosh—  _

The dark shadow of a giant circling bird flashes across the ground. The three of them duck and look around, startled, but  _ Alex the Witch _ doesn’t react, going on with whatever she’s doing.

“The prophecy’s already been laid out, or don’t you know?” Aomine scowls. 

Alex hums, a finger at her lips. Then she murmurs, “Let’s see… Perhaps one among you has hidden depths.”   
  
She spins around, still covering her eyes, and then points to each of them. Aomine stares, bewildered. Is she fucking serious? Okay so she’s  _ definitely _ not a serious person, they need to just go home, Dad was totally wrong about this. 

“Eenie— meenie— minie— MO.” 

On ‘ _ Mo’ _ she points at Kagami and opens her eyes. 

Everyone looks at Kagami, who balks.

Aomine’s confused for a moment, giving Satsuki an awkward side glance, but then he startles when the realization suddenly hits him.

The one among them who can save the city, she’s landed on Kagami, the humblest, most pitiful among them, ragged and unassuming.

_ The simplest soul,  _ Aomine realizes.

It dawns on him like the sun cresting the horizon of the deepest night. The realization strikes him so hard that it’s an almost spiritual experience. It falls into place and makes so much  _ sense _ that it feels like an eternal truth of the universe. Of course. Of course it’s Kagami. He’d come into his life out of nowhere only a day or so before the disaster struck, like some kind of divine intervention, or the hand of fate.

Kagami starts to shake his head, looking panicked. He looks to Satsuki, then to Aomine, brows pushing together. He waves his hands—  _ no, no, no, she’s got it wrong. _

“Kagami?” Satsuki asks of Alex tentatively. “Can Kagami save our city?” 

They stand and wait for her response, and after a few moments, Aomine begins to feel uncomfortable. The witch just stands there in silence. She looks around at everyone waiting for her to say or do something, and then she finally waves her hand in a sarcastic hypnotising  _ I’m doing magic _ manner and makes a coy little-girl pose.

_ Fuck—  _ Aomine realizes—  _ she’s definitely not wearing panties either. _

Then she pops out a hearing instrument from who knows where, fits it around her neck, and walks purposefully towards Kagami— 

Who promptly scrambles to back away.

She yanks Kagami down onto the ground, squatting next to him as he goes down hard on his ass. “Hey, paws off, lady,” Aomine snaps, but hesitates to stop her, voice dying away when Kagami gulps hard. She must be giving him quite the view up her skirt because Kagami tilts his chin up and helplessly lets his eyes rove the skyline, red right down to his neck. She whacks him on the knee, and his leg flies out. 

Then she leans in, and he leans away simultaneously, hands clamped protectively over his mouth and brows pulled low in suspicion. “Good reflexes,” she notes. 

Then she plonks the stethoscope receptor down onto Kagami’s chest, over his heart. It’s pumping furiously, which could have something to do with her naked breasts hanging in his face. 

Aomine stands there petrified, frozen in agonized indecision, because he doesn’t quite know who the fuck he’s supposed to be jealous of right now— 

Alex nods and hums. “Mhm. Mhm.” She turns back to them to report, “He’s got a big heart.” 

That makes something loosen within him, his shoulders lowering, brow softening. Kagami sits there, legs splayed, leaning on his hands, looking up at Aomine bleakly, completely baffled.

She lifts Kagami’s eyelid and peers in. Silhouetted in his eyeball is a handsome dark figure gyrating and dancing to a jungle rhythm. She lets the lid slap shut. “There’s a lot going on in there.”

She stands up and vanishes the stethoscope. “I think I can transform him but it’s going to be very costly.”

Aomine’s expression drops. “What? No!” he refuses, moving to stand by Kagami, who stares up at them in confusion, looking from face to face with a frown. 

Satsuki cries, “But we don’t want you to  _ change _ him!” Aomine nods sternly, looking to her and then glaring back at Alex, who raises her brows.

“Well not  _ change _ him, dearie— we’ll just bring out the real him.” She smiles, leaning in and tickling Satsuki’s chin with a long-nailed finger and the smile of a predatory cat. Satsuki clams up, looking cowed.

Aomine sputters, feeling threatened on all fronts. At least with Wakamatsu, he was so pathetically inept in his flirtations that the playing field felt somewhat even, his oafish attempts at wooing his sister and his easy comradery with Kagami. Gods above, this woman—

Boundaries or no, he’s got the feeling that she does in fact have what they need, and crazy or not, she seems to be on to something when she’d talked about the prophecy. If she says Kagami’s the one foretold by the ancients then… then he feels a modicum of trust that she’s right. It seems to make sense.

That doesn’t mean he feels any degree of reassurance. She hasn’t done much to inspire confidence that she knows what she’s doing beyond an obvious display of mystical powers and divine knowledge. 

He doesn’t know if he wants to give Kagami over to her clutches, that’s all.

Torn, Aomine asks uncomfortably, “Taiga... how do  _ you  _ feel about it?”

Kagami seems to dither, but eventually straightens up and nods.

“Money in front,” Alex calls.

Satsuki claps her hands and the eunuch guards come forward and set the golden treasure chest down, placing it in front of Alex. She opens it and looks in. It’s full of gleaming jewels and gold. 

“Ahhh,” she croons, appearing satisfied. “For you, I will take a very special trip.”

Aomine nods and then narrows his eyes, and for a second he’s considering whether to try to whisper to Satsuki, _do you know_ _what’s she talking about,_ but then Alex winds up and breaks into a run, sprinting off through the cavern.

They stare after her in bewilderment, and then this  _ crazy woman _ leaps into the air and lands on a trampoline in a pit below which flings her upwards into a somersault, soaring high up the cliff face. When she reaches the peak of her flight, she grabs a rope and swings around the mountain, shrieking like a banshee.

Aomine gives Kagami a glance and vaguely points his thumb in her direction, lips parted speechlessly. Kagami just puts a hand up to the side of his face and gives him a wide-eyed grimace. “... Oh my,” Satsuki murmurs, at a loss.

On the other side of the mountain, Alex swings by the rope, screaming all the way, the echo carrying through the mountain. As she flies, suddenly a winged man appears in her path, coming towards her on a collision course.

_ WHAM—  _

She crashes into him feet-first, and he spins away out of control, damaged wings hanging in bits as he flaps frantically, sliding down the side of the mountain. He has just enough wing control to break the fall and avoid certain death. She continues on undeterred, swinging around the mountain in a haphazard loop. 

_ Bam!—  _ She blasts through a bat’s nest, sending bats flying and screeching like crazy, and then comes to a sudden and immediate stop when she crashes into a humongous gong hanging over a cleft in the earth. She slaps into it and it vibrates loudly, and then she drops limply into a basket hanging from a tripod mounted over the crevice.

_ Thud—  _

Aomine and Kagami exchange a look and then crane their necks to keep sight of her up there, and when Aomine sees her start turning a wheel connected to a metal pipe leading into the crack in the ground, he realizes—  _ special trip?! _

“... Oh my god,” he says dazedly. “She’s just gonna’ get high as balls.”

Satsuki shushes him, but seems to realize the same. “Oh no...”

Alex opens the wheel, and multicolored gases slowly start to rise up through the fissure. Mystic symbols come and go as they rise, the fumes floating up about her shoulders. She inhales them, huffing in, her chest heaving and her head starting to nod and swirl.

Kagami just stares in silence, disturbed and fascinated. Aomine can smell it from here — it’s the worst, most pungent, asscrack,  _ skunk _ opium he’s ever caught whiff of. 

And then— this  _ madwoman—  _ she  _ lights a match. _

He remembers inhaling a gust of breath to shout, to try to stop her or maybe to demand what the fuck she’s doing, but it’s too late. The gas catches the flame and  _ explodes. _

They all duck. Aomine goes fetal, grabbing Satsuki on the way down, and Kagami drops on top of them, putting his arms around them both and huddling all their heads together. 

When the echo settles, they hesitantly look up.

“Oh fuck, she just blew herself up!” he shouts.

Kagami quickly slaps at his arm, patting him and then pointing above them at the column of gas rising up into the sky. They all stare up.

Alex is sitting up on a mushroom cloud of swirling fumes. She floats down, legs folded, and reaches within the smoke and brings out a checkered cloth, a bottle of wine, and a goblet.

They’re speechless, staring with mouths agape.

“Mystical elixir!” she calls. “The most ancient celestial wine!”

Alex pops the cork and pours purple liquid into the glass. A tabletop and glass appear in front of Kagami down on the ground, who jumps back in surprise.

“Drink this! It ought to bring out the real youuu—” She shakes her head, blinking hard. Aomine presses his lips together, slowly turning to look at Satsuki.

She’s high as shit, her tongue tangling. “Uh. Ah. Sorry, I’ll start again.” She shakes herself and then repeats, “Mystical elixir, the most ancient celestial wine! Drink this, it ought to bring out the real you,” as if running through a rehearsed pitch.

Kagami gingerly takes the cup and brings it to his lips, giving it a light sniff, and then tentatively sips it. Aomine can’t shake the feeling that this is a bad idea, but he just stands back and watches.

Kagami sips again, and then takes a big gulp. His eyes widen and he spits it out, bending over and coughing. “Taiga!” he hears Prince Daiki shout, but his vision is swimming.

He staggers back. Geez, that must’ve been really strong wine, because everybody and everything is swimming and distorting before him. 

He backs away a few more steps, holding his gut, and then suddenly feels his… his body swell and ache. He convulses, heaving, but instead of vomiting, a column of multi-colored flames roars from his mouth.

He and Aomine stare at each other for a silent beat. Aomine is pale and startled. “... What the fuck,” Aomine whispers, and just as he does, Kagami feels like an earthquake happens inside of him.

His limbs wobble and he feels like he’s being rattled apart, colors and sensations and the very fabric of reality distorting. 

When it stops, his throat expands, and he lets out a humongous belch. Oh. Is that all? Pff— 

No. 

_ No,  _ he just…. He just went  _ ribbit—  _

Like… 

Oh god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch a taiga by his toe.


	28. A Tack, A Tack

“What… what have you  _ done!”  _ Aomine cries out, rushing to Kagami, helplessly crouching at his side, hands hovering. 

“Kagami?! Is that you?!” 

A big green frog sits on the stone floor, throat swelling and then releasing a loud  _ croak—  _

Alex bursts into laughter like a naughty child. She holds up the wine bottle. “Must’ve been a bad year.”  _ Frogami _ starts leaping around like crazy, frantic ribbits echoing. He jumps and flops, tumbling clumsily until he hurts himself and lays still in a tangled heap, cheeping away, throat sac fluttering with distress.

“You! Are you mental?! What have you done to him!” Aomine hollers, despairing. Satsuki frets as Alex looks at the label on the bottle and tosses it away.

_ Crash—  _ It explodes as it shatters, taking away a piece of the mountain.

Frightened, Satsuki and the guards duck pieces of falling debris. They can hear the men hollering further down the tunnel. Alex cackles, throwing her head back. This crazy fuck— she’s completely mad, and dangerous.

Satsuki runs to his side where he crouches on the ground. “Kagami! Kagami— Are you okay?! Fuck!” Aomine tentatively tries to pick Kagami up, ever so carefully putting his fingers around his little body where he lies in a crumpled heap. He painstakingly rights him, untwisting his slimy limbs and then closes his hands around him to hold him securely in his cupped palms, gently taking him to his chest. Kagami holds still, allowing it, ribbitting uncontrollably.

Aomine’s throat is closing up with terror and guilt. How could he have let this happen. He’s going to lose Kagami because of this crazy witch, who he’d had to trust against his will for the good of his country. What if he never sees Kagami’s sweet face again because of this? How long do frogs even live for? Oh god, he’s going to be sick— 

“Oh Kagami! Poor Kagami!” Satsuki cries, ratcheting his panic up even further.

“What the fuck is this, you— you crazy witch!” Aomine howls, incensed. 

“Ohh, careful now, that’s not very nice!” Alex hums, but still seems amused more than anything. “Don’t you think he makes a cute frog?”

“Fuck— _no, _this is all wrong! Bring him back!” Aomine cries out, hugging little Kagami to him protectively. His tiny frog heart beats away, throat puffing rapidly as he croaks into Aomine’s chest and wriggles. _“Please! I’m begging you, change him back!”_

Down at the base of the mountain, very much oblivious to the yells echoing from up top, a small explosion and the pieces of rock that drop down as a result, Kuroko sits in the bushes, making some vines into a pair of spring coils, which he fastens to his feet.

Not one to be beat, he uses some brambles as a brace, stands up, and presses on the coils— and he’s off!

He makes little bounces first, then gathers momentum and height, gaining control from hop to hop. He goes higher and higher, bouncing as the ground comes and goes and the idol gets closer. Almost there now.

The idol is on its platform, surrounded by guards, but  _ SPOING—  _ he bounces straight over them and drops onto the idol with a  _ thud. _

Kuroko plasters himself to the idol, embracing it and pumping his spring feet like crazy, but the idol is either too heavy, or is sealed to the base, because he can’t lift it. And perhaps he’s learned to rely too heavily on his misdirection, because it may be a bit too much to ask to expect the guards not to notice a guy approaching on fucking moon shoes.

His kicking becomes more feeble as the guards’ spears circle his throat.  
  
  
  
"Look, I'm sorry, I didn't expect that to happen, honestly."  
  
“And what are you going to do?!” Aomine shouts. “Fix him!  _ Fix him!”  _ he demands, hugging the frog, who chirps feebly within his embrace, tiny frog face peeking out.

“Oh, if you insist,” she agrees, yawning. “Hmm, let’s see now.” Floating down, she peers out to examine Kagami. Aomine reluctantly holds him out on his hands, looking from Kagami to Alex repeatedly with great concern. Kagami chirps nervously. “Perhaps true love’s kiss?”

Satsuki is quiet, and doesn’t dare to accuse the witch of lying, but she suspects of course. 

Frantic, Aomine brings Kagami to his lips without a thought, gently kisses him on his slimy head. He waits, but nothing happens.

Again, he kisses the frog’s mouth. He starts panicking, kissing him more, and harder.  _ Kiss— kiss— kiss—  _

A feeble ribbit echoes from Kagami’s throat, but he doesn’t change.

Aomine’s damn near about to start crying— “ _ Fuck, _ why did I ever bring you here, I’m so sorry, Kagami,” he whispers, head bowed.

Alex, not quite through with her fun, subtly aims her finger at the pair of them and shoots a bolt at Aomine, who springs up when it hits him in the ass. He practically throws Kagami out from his arms, dropping him on the ground. 

“Ow!” he yelps, rubbing his backside, and then stops.

He feels… he feels funny— 

Aomine starts to vibrate all over, jiggling and trembling so hard that his figure seems to dance and rattle. Everything starts to swim before his eyes and then  _ POOF—  _

Two frogs sit on the ground. Aomine ribbits. Kagami ribbits back. 

Satsuki gasps, hands flying to her cheeks. 

_ “Oh hey,” _ Kagami greets.

_ “WHAT THE FUCK!” _ Aomine screams, but all he hears is the chirp of a frog. It feels like belching. He croaks and croaks, leaping around. Kagami starts jumping too.

“What an improvement on your dear brother,” Alex cackles, gleefully watching them hop. Satsuki rushes towards her cloud, dismayed.

“What have you done?!” she cries, “Why have you turned them to frogs?! Change them back, please! Do something, do something!” she begs tearfully.

“Oh, it’s not as serious as all that, don’t cry,” Alex soothes, “Just having a bit of fun.” Satsuki’s lip wobbles, but her shoulders lower, fiddling with her fingers. She stands and waits, watching as Alex puts a hand to her face thoughtfully.

_ “I swear this bitch turned us to frogs for fun. She’s not trying to help us,” _ Aomine grumbles, settling down.  _ “She’s just dicking around.” _

_ “Really? I think she just might be incompetent.” _

_ “....................... Oh my god, you’re right. What the fuck.” _

_ “...” _

_ “Man, I’m freaking out, where the fuck is my dick?! This is the worst.” _

_ “Yeah, same.” _

_ “Wait, why can you talk as a frog, but not as—” _

“I heard that, little prince,” Alex interrupts, leaning down and beaming, tapping a finger onto Aomine’s nose, which turns out to be really sensitive. 

_ “Yow!” _ he yelps, croaking loudly and instinctively leaping. This is harder than it looks, turns out, and his feeble front legs don’t catch his weight, sending him painfully tumbling.

“Hmm, let’s see now... Ah, I’ve got it this time.” Alex straightens up confidently and recites:

“Magic forces in the air,    
change the creatures sitting there!    
Into what they really are,    
and make sure they are similar—    
  
Uh… simil _ -ar.” _

Electricity shoots from her finger, striking Kagami and Aomine. The little frogs vibrate and in a few moments, a vibrant blue parrot and a plain pigeon appear on the floor. The parrot lets out a loud squawk, beating its wings angrily.

Satsuki is freaking out, pulling her veil and wailing. “Oh no! Oh no!”

“Ahh, wait a minute, wait a minute,” Alex shakes her hand, brow furrowed sheepishly. “It’s hard to come up with a rhyme on the spot, okay?!”

“Try again!” Satsuki pleads.

“Okay, one second, let me just— Forces of the universe, things seem to be getting worse!”

She runs up some steps to an old lever, which she pulls, and  _ whoom— _ the looming cloud explodes and she runs into the gale force wind from cloud to cloud, yelling,  _ “Whirling wind and rushing fire! Turn them into their desires!” _

Lightning flashes from her hands, a whirlwind encircling the birds. 

_ WHOOM—  _

It subsides and Satsuki swells with hope, but when the fog settles, it reveals a huge black panther and a shabby tiger. Aomine paces, tail flicking, but Kagami seems to have resigned himself to sit still and wait for the bullshit to end. 

Alex deflates.

“Ohhh  _ noooo!” _ Satsuki cries.

“Ahh, not so good, not so good, my apologies,” Alex says. 

Aomine rumbles, showing his fangs. Kagami puts his head on his paws.  _ “Are you a witch or not! What the fuck is this, you old hag?!” _

“It’s not as easy as you think!” Alex protests.

_ “Just change us back!” _

Satsuki sniffles, head in her hands, and Aomine butts his head against her arm.  _ “No, Satsuki, don’t cry... I’m okay, see?” _

“Magic day and mystic night, change them till they get it right!” Alex bellows.

Satsuki is absolutely beside herself, but the eunuch guards seem quite entertained at least. They change again and again as Alex zaps them. Aomine’s body changes so many times he thinks for a moment he actually forgets how it feels to be human.

He becomes a lovely beetle and Kagami a grey inchworm. After a beat,  _ whoof— _ he transforms into a beautiful moth.

“No, no, change again!” Alex cries, aggravated.

A wild dog with a silky coat and a red fox. “Once more!” 

A sloth and a pig. 

“Oh! Horsefeathers!” she curses, thoroughly exasperated.

Aomine becomes a black stallion and Kagami, a plow horse covered in feathers. Satsuki starts to well with tears, clenching her tiny fists. Her brother’s soft nose nudges at her face.

Her sorrow becomes a timid rage. “You bring them back, or else I’ll— I’ll—!”

“I’ve got it this time,” Alex promises, rubbing her hands together.

“Princess!” She points, snapping her fingers, and Aomine turns back into himself. He looks down at himself in relief, arms up as he spins once and then relaxes.

“Oh praise be!” Satsuki cries in joy.

“Hey! What do you mean, princess!” Aomine snaps when he realizes. Then he pales and grabs his front, feeling around— just— just to check— but whew, everything’s still there.

“And now—” Alex grins with relish, and cries, “Handsome prince!”

Kagami poofs back, stumbling a little. “Kagami!” Satsuki cries, rushing forward to clasp his arm. “Thank goodness!” 

“Fuck!” Aomine throws his arms around him and embraces him tightly. “Scared me there."

“Handsome prince!” Alex shouts. They look at her and wait, but nothing happens. Alex shoots electricity at Kagami, jolting him. “Handsome prince!  _ Handsome prince!” _

Nothing happens— other than Kagami is starting to look a bit singed.

“Cut it out, stop! Quit fucking with him! You leave him be, you, you—!” Aomine bursts, turning red with rage.

“We’re happy with him as himself!” Satsuki finishes. Kagami breathes a sigh of relief as Alex lowers her hand hesitantly.

“You… you’re happy with this?” she wonders.

“Yes, oh yes!” Satsuki cries. Aomine’s hand drops to Kagami’s back. His furious scowl eases into a smile. Kagami ducks his head when he sees. Yes— he’s already good like he is.

“Very well—”

“But O mad and holy old witch, our city will soon but under attack!” Satsuki tries again, going back to what they’d been trying to accomplish in the first place before what seems to Aomine like a very pointless interlude. If she’d been trying to change Kagami into a more suitable savior, Aomine says that’s a bridge too far. Kagami doesn’t need to be changed...

“How will we stop the attack?”

“Oh yes, attack, that’s right,” Alex murmurs, humming. “Attack? Attack.... Tack!” she bursts, standing bolt upright.

Kagami steps forward nervously. The witch commands him, “Tack—” He offers her one of his shoe tacks.

She displays it, holding it up before them. The metal gleams in a beam of sunlight. “A tack. See?” Kagami frowns, listening. “But it’s what you do with what you’ve got.”

Puzzled, Kagami takes it. “Get it?” She hands it back to him and he blinks. “Got it?” He nods dumbly. “Good.”

She cups his hand conspiratorially, and pats it.

“Really? Because I don’t understand  _ shit—” _ Aomine blurts flatly. “ _ That’s _ the divine advice we came through the desert to hear? How is that supposed to help us?!”

Satsuki and Kagami look to him warningly as he raises his voice, but he’s lost his temper. “You know, the king trusted you! He thought you’d save us with your mystical voodoo but you’re just a crazy bitch who gets a kick out of fucking with people! We came all the way out here because we thought we could bring our people hope and now we’ve wasted all this time!” 

“That’s right. There’s not much time left,” Alex says quietly, blank-faced in the face of his furious spitting. 

The mystic colours of the glowing fogs darken and she draws back, starting to grow larger, more ethereal and ghostly. She’s colossal and terrible—  _ Ishtar— fuck, he’s called Ishtar a crazy bitch—  _

“Soon your city will be under attack,” she says quietly, and then she holds out a pointing finger towards the city. The wind rises and her hair billows out. Her voice rises in a crescendo until it booms. Lightning flashes wildly.

“One here can save the city— go home!” she commands, voice rising into a shriek that rattles his bones and chills his blood, “NOW!”

A black thunderstorm engulfs the mountaintop and an earthquake rumbles and shakes its foundation. The mountain is breaking apart. Aomine stands there and stares up at her, frozen, mouth agape, until Kagami has to grab him by the arm and yank him away. 

They run— the party leaves the chest behind as they dodge falling rocks, running down the steps. They meet the brigands, who are howling and wailing up the corridor towards them, and then they race down the mountain with them as pieces of it start to crash down.

Wakamatsu scoops Satsuki up and barrels out in front with her. “Hey!” Aomine yells, but ducks from some falling rocks. Kagami yanks him out of the way of a boulder glancing off the cliffside on its way down. 

The hand at the top of the mountain has turned into a clenched fist and it looks like it will take off or fly to pieces at any second. Then, just as they’ve reached the bottom and all piled out into the bushes, running across the hot sand as fast as they can to get out of the danger zone, the clenched fist majestically turns into a pointing hand, beckoning the way home.


End file.
